


Lessons

by TheAdamantDaughter



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Porn With Plot, Smut, Zutara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-07 01:31:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11048487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAdamantDaughter/pseuds/TheAdamantDaughter
Summary: Zuko and Katara follow the marriage rituals of the Southern Water Tribe. [ for smut week, porn WITH plot ]"Our spirits, Tui and La, push and pull, give and take… It's said newlyweds become them; they become us. Tui and La bless every marriage with seven virtues, virtues that are significant to the couple, that require the couple to grow and learn in some way. In return, we honor them."





	1. A Lesson In Trust

**Author's Note:**

> Smut Week, Day 1 - Trust

He never thought he'd be so thrilled to see the walls of a restored icy tundra sparkling beneath the brilliant morning sun. Even with the constant fear of slipping, he'd rather slide all the way through the city on his ass then spend one more second at sea. **  
**

They'd been hidden away in the bowels of a steel-hewn ship for two weeks.

While his betrothed appeared to love it- he'd often catch her smiling at the bow or simply staring over the rail as midnight waves cracked with foamy white- Zuko swore he couldn't remember what land was like.

"Darling, please," Katara teased, when the gangway opened and she paced down the bridge to an icy dock, "you've sailed the seas far longer than that."

He snorted, blue-gloved fingers snatching the ends of his fur-trimmed cloak. "It's been _six years,_ Kat."

"Well, I suppose we could take an airship next time," she said, "but I was only helping you find your _sealegs_ so my _seafaring_ father would approve of you."

"He already does!" Zuko protested, in hot pursuit behind her.

He caught the end of a throaty chuckle, and Zuko pulled his attention from the feisty waterbender to the Water Tribe's southern chief.

"You already do..." Zuko repeated, not entirely happy with how his voice rose.

Hakoda winked, "Sealegs or not, you'll do just fine."

To confirm it, the man pulled Katara and Zuko into a rough hug.

"How did the treaties wrap up in Omashu?" Hakoda kept the pair close with his arms draped over their shoulders, one on either side of him. His playful grin flashed in Zuko's direction, "I better be getting those snowmobiles we discussed."

Zuko nodded, "They're in my ship's hold. A few months early, but consider it a 'thank you' gift?"

"Thank you?" Katara glared at them both. "Thank you!? As in ' _thank you for your daughter?'_ I will not be bought, Fire Lord."

While Hakoda just laughed, because gods above knew the chieftain was fully aware just how fierce a woman Zuko was marrying, Zuko couldn't help but hiss exasperatedly.

"I- Kat- please," he stumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose, "When have I- we've been together for years- Agni, they are _a symbol of gratitude_ … for letting us stay here, for the feast and the wedding and the…"

She smirked, satisfied now, and he realized her whole goal had been to fluster him.

"Heavens," Zuko growled, "What am I getting myself into?"

* * *

Zuko watched the crowd with mild interest. Most of those in attendance had finished eating, and now chatted amiably amongst themselves. The din of happy voices echoed off the banquet hall's domed ceiling.

He filled up on the spread of crab cakes and sea prunes. Sokka, who sat to his left with Suki, kept up an amusing conversation about his first time ice dodging. Zuko had no idea what that entailed, but Sokka seemed to excite over the mention of surfing, which had become a popular sport on Ember Island thanks to his fiancee.

_She_ was uncharacteristically quiet. Every time he glanced her way, her cheeks flushed a light pink and her blue eyes would dart to any place but him.

"You're embarrassed," he finally said, leaning so close that his lips brushed her hair. "Why?"

A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and Katara peaked in the direction of five elders, her grandmother among them. For all he knew, the gathered men and women would be presiding over their Southern wedding. Zuko assumed, after this congratulatory meal, that they'd be led through some practice ceremony… or at least briefed on what to expect come sundown.

Katara's reply, however, only confused his guesses, "Because I know what's next."

Zuko pulled back, giving her a cursory look, but no time was allotted to question her before whatever _next_ meant.

Hakoda tapped a silver knife against his glass. The clanging sound bounced around the room, calling every possible hue of blue to attention.

"Thank you. Thank you for joining us," he said, his voice a deep timbre. "It is with great happiness that I stand before you this morning, as my home has been rebuilt, my people are at peace, and my daughter has granted me the wonderful privilege of gaining another son."

Zuko nudged her, "You hear that? _I'm_ a privilege."

"Tui and La," came Katara's teasing remark. She shifted from her cushion to his though, her face a perfect picture of contentment when he put an arm around her waist. "You are _privileged_ … to have me."

He chuckled in her ear, "Trust me. I know that."

"...Water Tribe is grateful for the Fire Lord's support," Hakoda continued, drowning out any more comments between the couple. "As a father, however, I am grateful for the understanding and the acceptance between my daughter and her beloved."

Zuko felt Katara's skin heat at the compliment, and he, too, recognized the telltale signs of a blush on his own cheeks when Hakoda focused on them.

"As is practice in our tribe, our matriarch will bestow the first blessing upon the happy couple, to ensure these qualities remain strong in their marriage." The chieftain paused, and in the momentary silence, Kanna rose with something clutched in her hands. "Lord Zuko. Lady Katara. If you would join my mother…"

Katara nodded, and she tugged Zuko to a stand, then led him around the long table at the head of the banquet hall. As they approached Kanna, Zuko recognized what she held to be a pot of clay.

"Kneel," Kanna said.

They lowered to their knees in front of the dining crowd, with Hakoda looking on warmly and Kanna's stern gaze watching them.

"Every marriage marks the beginning of a new season," Kanna began. Her fingers dipped into the pot, coming free with dark, blue clay smeared on them. "In this season, you will face countless journeys together. Some will be easy. Some will be difficult."

The grey-haired woman pressed her fingertips to Katara's face, drawing a single curved line above her brows. She repeated the motion across Zuko's forehead.

"The mark of the trusted," Kanna explained. "The spirits have gifted you with this- this deep, selfless, rendering of your souls to each other. Cling to trust, young ones, and you will weather any storm that comes with life."

* * *

The tribesmen and women filtered from the banquet hall, spilling into the Southern City's busiest hub. It was just before noon, and with the clear skies, every surface glistened like diamonds set aflame.

Zuko felt breathless from the beauty, though nothing was more breathtaking than the woman next to him. She had hints of red and gold about her, woven in the intricate threading of her blue parka and around the fur trim that puffed out from her mittens. In her chestnut waves, she wore blue and gold beads, with a touch of red here and there.

Her style matched his, with his red robes, delicate gold and blue beaded belt, and a floor-length cloak in Water Tribe fashion. In his opinion, he was far more mismatched than Katara, but then again, the couple looked like a joyous blend of two fierce nations.

Zuko smiled to himself at the thought, the promise that he'd have her forever, and grabbed her hand as they followed Kanna.

"Hey, Kat?" He got his fiancee's attention, curious now that he'd stolen a look around the main square, and no preparations seemed to be underway. He was accustomed to more grandiose affairs, and knew the Southern Tribe was likely different than his home, but he couldn't resist the question.

"Was that the wedding?"

Katara simply laughed, and shook her head, "It's the start. For the next six days, every morning will be the same."

"Six days?"

"Yes," she nodded. "It's… one of our traditions."

_"One?_ " Zuko frowned.

Katara's cheeks were red again, and she didn't respond.

Kanna stopped at the side of a large sled. "You said goodbye to your father, darling?"

"Yes, after breakfast," Katara answered.

"Very good," Kanna stretched out a hand, helping the younger woman up onto the bench, "We'll be off, then."

Zuko scrambled in right behind her, "Is another tradition to keep your future husband in the dark?"

"Technically, you're _already_ my husband."

_"What?"_

Katara only shrugged, silent again as the sled jolted forward with Kanna at the reigns. He glanced between her and his wife.

"We- we don't…" He shifted awkwardly, then grimaced as something akin to mortification settled in his bones. " _Oh god,_ you- you were all flushed while we ate and now- please tell me we don't have to…"

She took his hand, squeezing his fingers tight. "We won't be asked to consummate our marriage in front of anyone, darling, but, if you require some detail…"

Katara leaned closer to him when the sled pulled free of the city's main gates. Her touch danced delicately from his wrist up his arm, leaving a trail of gooseflesh under his clothing.

"I was red because… well, the entire tribe knows what this week entails." Her voice turned soft, and shyness clouded her pretty blue eyes. "Our spirits, Tui and La, push and pull, give and take… It's said newlyweds become them; they become us. Tui and La bless every marriage with seven virtues, virtues that are significant to the couple, that require the couple to grow and learn in some way. In return, we honor them."

"How?" came his whispered reply.

"Meditation is one way. We are to seek out what the spirits give us. Then, there's fasting. We break it with a feast every morning. In the evenings, we're called to bathe, to symbolize the renewal of our hearts and wash our bodies of the day's mark." Katara's eyes flicked to paint above his brow, then she smiled. "As for every other moment… I think you'll enjoy them."

* * *

The sled flew further south for nearly an hour.

When they finally slowed, Zuko guessed they were fifty kilometers from the tribe's center. It was noticeably warmer there. The blanket he'd spread across their laps during the ride wasn't needed anymore.

He folded the fur over the side, and climbed down on wobbly legs. Katara followed him, and he led her around the front of the sled, where the leading reindeer grazed on blades of grass.

Zuko gasped. From the sled and on, the snow was melting in clumps, steaming up to create a humid atmosphere. The ground was covered in a wild green blanket, with pops of pink peonies growing in clumps.

"Geothermal activity," Katara explained. "That, and the flowers are specially bred to withstand harsher days."

"There are even hot springs nearby. You'll see them soon," Kanna said, catching the gawking couple by surprise. The woman smiled, and with a wave of her hand, she directed them to follow her towards a cozy hut.

Its frame was built up with wood, but the space between was covered in furs. The shelter was shaped like a dome, with a hole at the top where smoke piped into the blue sky.

Kanna lifted a flap, "I'll return for you in the morning. In the meantime… have fun."

Zuko would've stood there, completely mortified, if Katara hadn't tugged him through the entrance.

The air inside smelled vaguely of pine, which matched the rugged interior. The floor was lined with dark hides, a monotone contrast to the patchwork of grey and white, black and brown that insulated the walls.

Katara followed her grandmother's word, and skirted around a wood-burning stove in the hut's center to a table covered with a variety of wines and aphrodisiac tea blends. Before her skin could turn any deeper pink, she waltzed away to the metal trunks that held their clothes.

Only two items had been pulled from them: fluffy, fleece robes Hakoda had gifted them, one in red and one in blue. They were spread out on a low bed, hiding a purple quilt that boasted woven fire and water runs.

"I'm guessing that's where the _other moments_ happen?"

She snorted at his teasing, "I told you, you'd enjoy them."

Zuko snuck up behind her, though he imagined she felt his heart beating in his chest. A small sigh left her when he brushed her long hair aside and kissed up the back of her neck. **  
**

"Already so eager," Katara commented, pretending she wasn't feeling the same tangible heat that he did.

She toyed with the lapel on one of the robes, acting aloof, but he could hear the change in her breath. Her mouth parted slightly and more of her weight leaned into him. His fingers settled on her hips, keeping her close, and he chuckled in the crook of her neck.

"I have spirits to please." Zuko pressed a kiss to the soft skin behind her ear. "I have _a wife_ to please."

Before he lips journeyed to her shoulder, however, Katara turned in his arms, the backs of her knees against the mattress. Her fingers walked up to the clasp of his cloak.

"We're supposed to discard of the clothing we came in… another _tradition_ ," she murmured, maintaining a serious look as she fumbled at the hollow of his throat. "Our old belongings have no place in our new life."

Something like satisfaction flashed in her eyes when she pushed his cloak from his shoulders. Her touch was quick after that, tugging his shirt free and over his head. She felt her way down the front of him, smiling excitedly when she reached the drawstrings of his wool-lined pants.

Katara tugged those to his ankles, and Zuko managed to kick free of the fabric and his boots in one fell swoop.

Normally, a dash of pink would spread across his skin, being so wholly vulnerable to her whims, but he didn't have time to think of his own nervousness. Katara was already stripping, and any worry he had was suddenly getting lost in lucious shades of brown.

Brown hair. Brown breasts. Brown legs.

He swallowed a whine when her fingers danced teasingly across the bindings at her hips.

"You're supposed to discard them, Kat."

"Or… what?" She quirked a brow, one leg bending and that hip dipping. She was still so close her breasts tickled his chest. She eyed him when he bit his bottom lip. "What will you do if I don't?"

It wasn't that she _had_ to ask- they'd played this game countless times before- it was that she knew exactly how he reacted to such taunts.

Even before his mouth crashed into hers, Katara was up on her toes, throwing her arms around him. And when her back hit the bed, his mouth on her neck, his fingers clawing at the strips of white that hid her skin, she moaned because she wanted it. The need is his touch; the lust that would give way to an unrelenting love.

Zuko pulled the undergarments down her legs, his lips following the motion until quick breaths puffed over her mocha hips and he was crouched between her knees. Her hands were in his hair in an instant, but his own patience hadn't worn so thin.

He planted quick kisses from left to right, only slowing between to inhale her intoxicating scent.

Katara curved on the bed when his nose brushed soft curls. "Love?"

Her question, dripping with apprehension, with desire, hung thick in the air.

"Love." Zuko repeated her sentiment, raking up her body with a golden stare.

He saw it then, what she meant about the spirits and their gifts. Her limbs were lax, but for the tight grip she had on his raven strands. Her mouth was open. Her eyes were closed. Even her breaths came calmly.

She trusted him. Zuko didn't think he'd ever see a more beautiful sight.

He blew a rush of warm air on her belly, watching her gasp when he bowed his head and his breath fluttered over wet lips. He left a single kiss just above her clit. Her legs trembled, a hiss trapped in her throat.

"Zuko…"

The moan filled the hut when his tongue flicked out, writing his name that swollen bud. _God,_ he loved the way she tasted. He settled on his stomach, his fingers digging into the curve of her ass for leverage, and stealing lick after long lick up her folds.

"You're so…" He growled against her damp lips, unable to form a single thought.

Her hands tugged at his hair when he sucked her clit. Zuko answered with a moan, and ground his hips into the bed like that'd somehow relieve the building heat in him. His cock was hard and heavy, twitching against his thigh.

He was addicted to her, to light kisses that made her beg, the slow laps that made her whine, and the perfect twist of his fingers inside her that made her writhe. Her breath was coming in quick gasps, her back bowed above the bed.

"Zu-" A strangled plea reached his ears- "Zuko… _please."_

He had her close. He knew it.

But, all he wanted was more- more of her, more of that sweet nectar between her legs.

"Come here."

Her eyes flew open, a desperate look of protest finding him as he sat back on his heels with glistening lips. She gasped, "What?"

"I want you on me," Zuko murmured.

He tugged her towards him, so she straddled his lap and the slightest roll of her hips offered the friction she needed. He watched her eyes flutter shut and her head tilt back as she grinded on him, every thrust getting more erratic.

_"Fuck…_ I want you on me…" His lips whispered up her neck. Katara was falling apart, easily and quickly, soaking every inch of his cock. "...clinging to me, begging me…"

Her fingers were back in those raven locks, twisting. "Zuko, _please."_

He panted in her ear, gripping her ass and aching to be buried in her. Zuko let her get within a breath of the release she sought, the high she wanted, and then pushed her back.

His hips slammed into hers at the same time her shoulders hit the mattress.

For a heartbeat, they were still- foreheads touching, eyes half open and swimming in lust, the breath stolen from their lungs. She felt _so fucking good_ , so tight and wet, so completely his. He was lost to her, and it seemed she was lost all the same. A cry was stuck in her chest, her legs locked tight around his waist, her hips rolling to find that angle, that depth they both wanted.

Only with his first thrust, something slow, something lazy, something that let him savor the way she took his cock, did her breasts heave with a shuddering sigh and a loud moan break free.

_"God!"_

Katara felt her way down his back, her nails leaving red marks he'd proudly show off. When she reached the curve of his ass, her fingers dug in, building the pace, making his hips rock into hers over and over again.

A gasp was his only warning. Her body curved under his. Her legs shook. She was wet, _so wet,_ so hot- trembling around him **.** Then it seemed she couldn't breathe as a loud moan ripped from her throat.

Murmured praise. Hissed curses. His name.

Zuko drank it in, his mouth over hers, stealing kisses and groans. He didn't want to quiet her, not at all, but he wanted to taste the way his body made her feel as the sounds rolled off her tongue. That was all he needed, really, to tumble after her and drown in a rush of fire.

His teeth grazed her neck, "Kat…" and he bit down, drawing out the last of their pleasure.

"Good," she whispered, "so good."

Her hands relaxed, tickling up his spine to massage his shoulders. Zuko stilled, and laid his head on her chest, savoring how her touch soothed his restless heart. "I love you, Katara."

He didn't have to look to know she'd smiled.

"I love you, too."

* * *

He wasn't sure how much time had passed. Katara's breaths were deep, her body completely still beneath his.

Zuko lifted his head, stealing a peek. Her mocha skin bore a faint blush, and there was a bright red stain in the crook of her neck, either from his lips or his teeth. Her hair clung to her cheeks and forehead, smearing the mark painted there. The rest of the wild strands spread out on the pillow in a billowing mane.

He didn't think he'd seen anything as beautiful as she.

Careful not to wake her, Zuko shifted from her embrace and left the bed. The kettle on the stove was already filled with water. With a brief smile and a memory of his uncle, Zuko collected the spark rocks and lit the burner, then set out two tea cups and saucers on the table.

He was able to identify a jasmine blend for himself, and the citrus-flavored contraceptive that his fiancee- no, _his wife_ preferred. He'd have to get used to that, Zuko thought.

He snatched the kettle from the stove just before it started whistling and poured the steaming water over the tea bags.

"I hope you didn't ruin it," Zuko heard from the bed.

He glanced over his shoulder, and turned around, the saucers in hand. Katara was smirking, propped up on a pillow. "Your uncle loves you for a lot of reasons, but... tea-making is not one of them."

"I've gotten better," he said. Zuko held the out the cup of citrus tea.

Her eyes roamed his naked body before Katara took it. "Have you?"

"It's a little easier when the blend is pre-made," he chuckled, sitting on the bed's edge and bobbing the bag of steeping leaves in and out of his cup. "I imagine it's all from my uncle."

"Even the aphrodisiac tea?"

Zuko shook his head, " _Especially."_

"Well, perhaps we'll want it later in the week," Katara mused, "when we're tired and sore, but the spirits demand more."

He practically choked on his tea, much to her amusement.

"Is- is that what they do? Tui and La, is that what they do?" Zuko stared at her, his eyes wide with apprehension. "We're… we're their sex prisoners?"

He should've expected how hard she'd laugh at that, but given he knew so little about this particular tradition- hell, he was learning as they went- Zuko felt a rush of frustration.

"Katara, I can't- I can only perform so many times in a day. We found that out during our first trip to Ember Island… or do you not remember?"

"Love, relax." Her giggles died.

Katara set aside her tea to slide across the bed towards him. She kissed his cheek. Zuko felt a rush of gratitude for it, and even more when she wrapped her arms around him from behind and her cool hands pressed over his thudding heart.

"I'm only teasing you," she said. "I don't have all the details, either. I've never done this before; and, while my grandmother always says the spirits teach their lessons through intimacy and sex, it's all at our own pace."

She pulled away, massaging knots in his neck.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, Zuko."

He nodded, a long draught from his tea warming his chest. He hoped the jasmine would calm him, but a nagging worry flitted through his head. "What if they decide I'm not worthy?"

Katara's fingers halted. In the corner of his eye, Zuko saw her settle on her knees at his side. Their gazes met, his wide and anxious; hers, comforting. **  
**

"Do you trust me?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, no hesitation in his reply, "with my entire soul."

"Then, you are."


	2. A Lesson In Obedience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something in his voice, in the tight swallow and the bob of his throat, made her think this was exactly what he wanted, but she quickly found it to be the opposite. His mouth was so pliant. The ferocity with which his lips always moved gave way to the hunger in hers. His hands followed silent instructions, ghosting up her arms when she sighed, skimming down her sides when she pressed her body to his, grabbing her ass when she bit his bottom lip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut Week, Day 2 - Dominance

She woke before him, which was unusual, but Katara chalked up his deep slumber to their night of endless sighs.

He'd collapsed beside her some handful of hours after midnight, grumbling the same phrase he'd said over afternoon tea, _'I can only perform so many times in a day, Katara.'_ Much to her chagrin, Zuko hadn't been lying. But, after she let her own heart slow, she admitted to being as tired as him, and drifted off with her head on his chest.

This morning, however… this morning, she was already aching to put his body to the test. Be it the spirits and their lessons or that tea she'd sipped just before their third time, her mouth watered for even the smallest taste.

Maybe it wasn't the tea, though. Maybe this inexplicable need was influenced by the way he stretched out naked atop the blankets. Maybe it was his arms above his head and etched abdomen rising and falling with every steady breath.

Or… it could just be the sight of his thick, hard cock lying heavily on his stomach.

Katara licked her lips, not at all ashamed of the fact that she was standing at the foot of their bed, gawking at what she'd decided was a flawless male form. A chiseled jaw, a defined chest, strong legs and biceps- her eyes kept drifting to the gift from the gods between his thighs.

He shifted slightly, a deep sigh expanding his ribs. She swore his cock twitched as he settled again.

_"Tui and…"_

Katara couldn't even finish her hissed curse. Her thighs were wet and her stomach twisted and she was _trembling_ when she slunk up the bed, her lips hovering over him.

She kissed from his left hip to his right, careful to avoid every solid inch of him, until she sensed him waking. Her tongue drug up him at the same time his eyes flickered open.

"Fuck," he hissed.

Her eyes ran up him, playfully blue, and all she saw, passed the tensing muscles in his stomach and chest, was a needy gold.

Their gazes locked then, and Zuko lifted his head with a lopsided grin,

"Fuck, Kat-"

She lapped around the head of his cock, paying careful attention to every ridge just how he liked. His head fell back on the pillow

_"Damn."_

That was all she got from him. That was all she wanted- those whining curses. He was smiling like a happy idiot, his breath coming in gasps as she teased and taunted with light laps along every vein, then gave him just want he wanted, humming when he filled her mouth.

Katara swore she could see his pulse in his throat. And even if she couldn't… she could feel it, the steady beat making him throb between her lips.

"It's a lovely morning, isn't it?" She pulled away for a moment, smirking. Katara gripped him then, offering just a few slow, slick strokes that made him groan long and low.

Her smile turned coy, like she wasn't bringing him to the brink, like she couldn't see the dewdrop of cum on his cock as she edged him closer and closer. When his hips lurched, Katara halted her motions, a tight hold 'round the base of him.

She bit her lip, let it go, then lapped up the first taste of him.

"Kat…" He growled, as if the briefest wash of tongue pained him. "Kat, please… _please."_

His back lifted from the bed, arching over it. Another curse or two spilled free with a soft moan. She didn't let him get another word in, though, not before her mouth closed around him again.

The first bob of her head made him spit her name. The second had his hands in her hair.

She watched him the whole time, how his eyes closed and his jaw clenched and he pushed deeper and deeper along her tongue. She loved how she had all the power, but with his fingers gripping her curls, his needy groans filling the room, he had every ounce of control.

And if that wasn't enough, she had nearly all of him to please her gaze, from his taut shoulders to his cock disappearing between her lips.

Katara brought her hand from his thigh to the slick heat between her own. All it took was a few quick circles, and she was as close to coming as him. Her lips released him, only for her tongue to swirl around the head, before she sucked him hard.

She shook with the tension he had on her chocolate locks, the pain making her impossibly wet beneath her fingers. And she moaned, when another stroke between her legs made her come and he jerked, her mouth filling with his hot release.

"Shit," he hissed. "Shit. Shit. Shit…"

Katara smiled from her position between his legs, her lips red and swollen.

"That bad?"

"That _good!"_ Zuko laughed lightly, his cheeks pink, and Katara slid towards him happily when he reached for her.

They lay still for a long while, both sticky with sweat, both satiated for the moment. The hut lightened with the rising sun outside and the couple was content to watch shadows move across the space until the sound of crunching footsteps drifted in from outside.

Katara scrambled for the quilt, haphazardly throwing it over both of them when Kanna peeked through the flap.

"Have you ever heard of knocking, Gran Gran? Has _anyone_ in this tribe heard of knocking?"

The woman hardly blinked, "Glad to see you're both up." She pushed inside, putting on another kettle of tea and throwing open the untouched trunks of clothing. "Well, aren't you both hungry? Get dressed! It's time for the feast."

Zuko was the first to move, and Katara simply glared when he tumbled from the bed with his red robe clutched to the front of him for modesty.

"What?" He asked, "A man needs to eat!"

Katara frowned, despite the smile in her eyes. "God, you sound like Sokka."

* * *

She stomped from the banquet hall, hot on the heels of Pakku. **  
**

"Obedience?" Katara demanded, jabbing at the two vertical lines on her forehead. _"Obedience._ Is she serious?"

The old master halted in the square, giving Katara a look of mixed amusement and annoyance. "Your husband bears the same mark, granddaughter. The lesson is not only for you."

She scowled. The man was too much like her father, now that she'd forgiven the history in the north and spent time getting to know him. He made her grandmother happy, he enjoyed games of chance, and he had the worst advice.

By worst, she meant correct. Katara braced herself for whatever hung on the tip of Pakku's tongue.

"You've been challenged by Tui and La," he said simply. "Perhaps, you'd do well to _breathe_... and make an attempt at understanding them."

She heard Zuko snort beside her. "Do you have something to say, husband?"

"What? N-no… I- I don't?" He spluttered, his hands raised defensively.

She had to admit, a touch of satisfaction went through her at how she had him on thin ice. However, the feeling quickly disappeared when Zuko rubbed the back of his neck and his mouth opened again.

"I think your grandmother, well… the spirits, actually… I think there are other definitions to obedience," he said. "It's not healthy to be demanding things from each other, but listening to one another, serving one another, respecting and sacrificing for our differences… that's what a marriage is."

The glare she gave him - _how dare he agree with the grumpy old waterbender?_ \- could've cut through steel. He was right though, and she knew it. But her hands balled into fists anyway.

"And I assume you know this from all your experience as a wedded man?" Katara turned on her heel, leaving the pair of men behind. "I'll be damned before I'm obedient. Fire Lord or not."

* * *

She let loose another volley of darts across the blanketed green, smiling darkly when the ice severed peonies from their stalks and left clumps of petals in the grass. It might've felt better to spar - at least then she'd have a real target - but she'd made the reasonable choice not to fight her husband with such agitation coursing through her veins. **  
**

Katara knew she should feel guilty for her silence throughout their return trip. He'd tried a dozen times to assuage her grimace. She should feel worse for the pained look he wore when she didn't follow him into the hut.

 _'Go on,'_ she'd said, despite his promises of no more talking. He'd hold her or kiss her or fuck her… whatever she wanted.

 _'I need to be alone,'_ she'd persisted. _'I'll be in after a while.'_

She felt like she couldn't get enough oxygen, not inside, not with the stifling heat that rolled off Zuko in waves. He could melt away a blizzard, she imagined, if not with warm touches, then with his eyes alone.

The molten gold was too perceptive, too knowing, which was why she'd stayed outside to push and pull her element in the open air. Surrounded by so much water, she felt alive- and at peace, not that her movements would show it.

Katara spun, and a web of ice whistled away in every direction. She watched the shards go, watched them glisten in the midday sun. An array of dull thuds reached her ears. Another dozen peonies met their demise.

"You'll take someone's eye out, love."

She heard him before she felt him. Soft, forgiving fingers wrapped around her biceps, squeezing in a way that was meant to comfort. She fought to ignore the nagging idea that he wanted to calm her.

He wasn't Aang. He wouldn't expect that.

Katara exhaled, "There's no one around, Zuko," but her shoulders relaxed in a bid of submission, "I- I'm sorry… for earlier."

"Don't be," he replied.

Zuko stepped closer, the aura about him warming her skin. His lips brushed her neck, and she tilted her head to the side, granting him more access.

"I don't like the idea of obedience," she said, fighting the urge to both tear up and lean into him. She didn't want to appear weak, and at the moment, both desires seemed to be. "I respect you, Zuko. I want to hear you, I want to make you happy…" Katara captured a dozen droplets from the air. "But I wouldn't be a master if I obeyed."

He planted an open mouthed kiss over the pulse below her jaw. "I understand."

"Do you?" Katara asked, turning around to face him. Her brows scrunched together, disfiguring the painted lines on her forehead, and she crossed her arms. "You wear a crown on your head. You rule a nation. You aren't required to heed anyone if they displease you, but I- I grew up under the notion that a man's word is law."

"My word is not any more important that yours… Maybe that's what the spirits want you to learn, Katara."

Her mouth twisted in confusion. "What?"

"Of all the people who offer me advice, _you're_ the one I should obey. I know you have a thousand things to say." Zuko chuckled a little, massaging her shoulders. "At any given time, you have a hundred unspoken desires, and as your husband, I should heed them."

She smiled, finally. "You're not wrong."

"You don't share them, though. You're too used to taking care of others, and assuming no one will take care of you."

Katara pressed her lips together, looking away. _Goddamn_ , those eyes were too talented at reading her. However, she didn't pull back when her let her shoulders go, dipped his forehead to hers, and traced her jawline.

"So… _tell me."_ His fingers reached the point of her chin, and Zuko tilted her face up, a gentle kiss convincing her mouth to soften. "Tell me what you want, Kat."

Her nose nudged his, chasing the scent of tea and spice that whispered on his breath. Her arms wrapped 'round his neck, that first kiss only a tease. Her body screamed for more.

Something in his voice, in the tight swallow and the bob of his throat, made her think this was exactly what _he_ wanted, but she quickly found it to be the opposite. His mouth was so pliant. The ferocity with which his lips always moved gave way to the hunger in hers. His hands followed silent instructions, ghosting up her arms when she sighed, skimming down her sides when she pressed her body to his, grabbing her ass when she bit his bottom lip.

"I have too many clothes on," she said, the embrace momentarily broken.

Katara expected him to pick her up then, or just lead her back to their hut. Instead, Zuko abandoned the shapes his fingers were making on her hips and felt around to her tunic's sash. The soft blue came open easily, and she shrugged free of it.

The chilly air made gooseflesh rise, but god, was he warm. Everything about him was so warm.

"Here," Katara said. "Get me wet."

She guided his touch up her ribs, her eyes on his to catch the way his irises melted when he cupped her breasts. Her lids fluttered shut when he pinched each dusty bud, drawing a rush of blood to the surface of her skin. His lips were next, bowing to her chest, licking and biting and sucking.

"Just like that..." She sucked in a deep breath, her nails gripping the cloak around his shoulders. With the faintest pressure, she coaxed him lower, and without a word, Zuko obeyed.

He left a trail of kisses from her sternum to her stomach. His hands followed, down to her boots where he made quick work of the laces. Zuko tugged at her socks and leggings and panties, leaving everything in a pile at her feet.

Gold flicked up lazily, stalling on every inch of her naked body. His fingers caressed the back of her thighs, tickling the curve of her ass, until finally, "Anything else, my queen?"

"Kiss me," Katara whispered, her hands fisting in his hair.

His mouth pressed to her hip, then murmured down to velvet curls. Another kiss right above where she wanted it- Katara moaned. Zuko brought a hand between her legs, his fingertips teasing wet lips, then he pushed into her as his tongue washed over her clit.

She buckled forward, grabbing at his shoulders for support with a loud cry.

_"God…"_

Katara swore he chuckled against her skin.

His attention to her was perfect. Every whisper of his name earned a long lick. If she tugged his hair, his teeth would scrape her clit. And whenever she started trembling, whenever she thought she'd collapse with another lap, he'd ease away with a teasing kiss, and curl his fingers until she cried out.

"Are you hard?" she panted. She was on the verge of it, that wave her body always chased, but she wanted him, she wanted to drown in him.

Zuko halted in his work, a smile tugging at his lips. As if to show off the shape of his thick cock, he gripped himself through his pants. "Yes."

"Take them off. Just enough…and let me watch."

He did as he was told, exposing himself to her, to the sun. Zuko licked the palm of his hand with a wicked grin, then stroked himself, slow and firm. When he whined, she knew he was wishing his palm was hers.

That made her give in. Katara dropped to her knees, straddling him, and after a few light, fluttering thrusts, she sank down until their hips were flush.

"Don't come until I do," she said.

She heard Zuko grown, either at her comment or how she started to move. Katara rode him like a wave, pulling back 'til her body was barely gripping him, then crashing forward, skin slapping skin.

And somehow, despite the cold sun and the damp grass, her mocha skin was covered in a sheen of sweat. She was moaning, mewling for more- more friction, more kisses. Zuko sought out every inch he could reach: her neck, her throat, her collarbones, marking her with little nibbles, licking away the sting.

She could feel his need- the hold he had on her hips would leave bruises. It was enough to send her over the edge, and with just a handful of ragged breaths, he was gasping, too.

* * *

She didn't remember coming back to the hut. When Katara stirred again, the first coherent thought forming since their clash outside, she noted the absence of shadows in their home. The quilt covering her smelled of sage and _him._ The air was silent. **  
**

"Zuko?" She sat up in a near panic, thinking he'd gone to bathe without her. A sigh escaped her when she found him rummaging through a trunk. Her tone turned flat. "What are you doing?"

"I have a gift for you," he answered, coming back to the bed with a scroll in his hand.

Katara eyed him curiously, "A gift? I thought we'd be exchanging everything after the wedding in the Fire Nation."

"Yes…" he gave her the rolled up parchment, "but this one couldn't wait. I know we haven't talked about it much, and your position has been fairly… impromptu…"

Zuko trailed off as she skimmed the page quickly. When she looked up, his eyes held a playful lightness.

"The ambassador," she said, a laugh in her throat. "You're _formally_ making me the ambassador?"

Katara dropped the parchment and launched into his arms, practically knocking the breath from him.

"Of course," Zuko answered, like it should've been obvious to her. "You've been in the position for a year now, ever since Bato left, and I can't think of anyone who'd be better. I want you to know… I value everything you say, Kat. You're very important to me, not just as my wife, but as a political partner."

She leaned back, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. "Thank you, Zuko. I- I mean it."

A smile brightened his face. He swept her up, quilt and all, and left behind their hut in favor of the hot springs.


	3. A Lesson In Healing (the scars we can't see)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wanted rough. She wanted fast.
> 
> Zuko obliged. His heart was beating too erratically. His skin was burning. But, he'd just learned obedience, hadn't he? He shoved her to her hands and knees on the bed, a fist full of brown hair betwixt ivory fingers. His hips slammed into her ass over and over again.
> 
> She was left with pink handprints on her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut Week, Day 3 - Scars

Their third feast was different.

The setting was intimate. Rather than the banquet hall with the entire village looking on, the couple dined in the personal quarters of Hakoda. Seven of them knelt around the food-covered table. Sokka and Suki carried on a quiet conversation with Pakku. Hakoda talked to his daughter.

Zuko glanced over the hut's simple walls- a decorative headpiece here, whalebone weapons there. Firelight warmed the space, and cast a glow that would normally make him feel light, but somehow… this morning's atmosphere was heavy.

Kanna sat directly across from him. Anytime his gaze strayed from his plate, it'd always land on her.

He couldn't decide what to make of her expression. She seemed weary, her shoulders sagged with a burden he couldn't decipher. Until a jolt of fear ran through him, and Zuko nearly lost his breakfast.

The spirits must've judged him unworthy. That had to be it. That was the only explanation for Kanna's silence, for the furtive glances she stole in his direction. Tui and La, those accursed coy fish- he'd spent two days and two nights with the wife sitting beside him. He'd spent hours loving her, holding her, giving his body to her again and again and they'd decided he wasn't enough.

Where had he gone wrong? Zuko wracked his mind for anything, any harsh word, any cruel moment.

He couldn't find a thing, but who the hell was he to question the spirits? It wasn't any action of his… _it was just him_. He wasn't worthy.

The pain that tore at his chest was worse than a thousand bolts of lightning. Zuko felt like he was suffocating suddenly and inexplicably, with panic and lingering electricity flooding his veins.

He swallowed tightly and shoved to his feet, surprising everyone at the table. He couldn't bring himself to care.

"Excuse me," Zuko grunted through clenched teeth. _"Please."_

* * *

No one followed him, not immediately, and for that, Zuko was grateful.

He keeled over outside, watching his breath puff in the cold air as he fought the vice around his lungs. It didn't help that the sky was clouded and dark, thick with a coming storm. Whether it be snow or rain, Zuko knew from Katara's tales how rough the weather could become in the south.

Silently, he sent up a prayer to Agni - he was through with Tui and La - that there wouldn't be thunder. Thunder might kill him.

There wasn't a rainy night during which he slept well. Even in the Fire Nation, where the downpours were milder and warm, he tossed and turned above sweat-dampened sheets. Katara's palm on his chest was all that calmed him, but the spirits...

"Fuck," he hissed, and a lick of fire escaped his lips. Katara. The spirits. There was no way he could take this pain. "Fuck! God- _why!?"_

Zuko glared at the ceiling of threatening clouds. He expected a sudden torrent as his answer, not a gravelly voice behind him.

"Storms trouble you, Lord Zuko."

Hakoda approached his side, and Zuko noted that the man hadn't asked a question. He wondered if the chieftain knew, if Katara had mentioned the fitful dreams Zuko faced and the way he'd wake up tearing at the scar on his chest.

"It doesn't matter," Zuko said, his teeth grit so hard he could feel his molars scraping. Come blizzard, come monsoon… "I'd do it again."

"As my daughter has said."

Again, with the statements. Zuko glanced sideways at the older man, reading a flash of fatigue in the man's eyes. They looked the same as Kanna's worn-out blues.

A new heat pooled in his blood. It wasn't the spirits he should fear, Zuko realized. It was his wife.

"What- what else has she said?"

Hakoda shrugged tiredly, "She never told me much. She can't… without anger or regret."

"Regret?" Zuko struggled to make sense of that. "I- I don't- I was dying that day… I was at my most powerful, and I was dying… _for her._ Did she- does she wish it'd been her?"

"I can't say, my son." The chieftain turned away, his gait slow and careful as he walked back to his hut. He stopped, however, and looked towards Zuko with a final comment. "The spirits placed that day upon Kanna last night. It's remaining effects... and the dozens of scars you cannot see… that is your _blessing,_ today."

* * *

The newlyweds spent the day apart, with scattered seconds of togetherness breaking up the monotony. Alone, Zuko fought against the anxiety that sweltered in the sky overhead.

Kanna told him privately that the grey wouldn't break until he found peace. She'd said a handful of other things, too, as she guided him and Katara back to their secluded place. Call it a blessing, call it a burden- he was commanded to heal.

Heal himself. Heal his wife. He wore the scars. This was his responsibility. And _gods be damned_ if Katara ever admitted she needed a palm of cool, glowing water pressed to her own chest.

She spent the day studying scrolls in their bed. He spent the day in the grass, in meditation, in complete disarray.

Every now and then, he'd venture inside. He didn't know what to do, and he'd always press through the flap with the hope that his fervent whispers has been answered. But, the air was as tense as always.

Katara would have a cup of tea ready, intrinsically knowing when he wanted something strong or something sweet. She'd offer it to him with a pensive sigh. He'd lower to the edge of the bed. While he sipped, she'd rub his shoulders and his neck.

She wouldn't talk, because something painful clouded her eyes, too.

They tried to hide it in intimacy, thinking this lesson could be learned like all the others, by offering their bodies and their souls to the other... Somehow, their connection only stretched and strained.

The first time, Katara was facing him, her ankles locked behind his waist. The beginning was easy, _not natural,_ but normal. Until her eyes filled with tears and she couldn't meet his golden gaze. Zuko lifted her away before either finished, and apologized as he grabbed his robe and left the hut.

He refused to pursue her again, not until she was ready.

When he came in at noon, craving a cup of ginseng, Katara collided with him, fiery and hungry and naked. He could taste the regret her father mentioned on her tongue. It lingered on her cheeks, salty and warm. The anger was there too, anger at herself. It danced in every touch.

She wanted _rough_. She wanted _fast._

Zuko obliged. His heart was beating too erratically. His skin was burning. But, he'd just learned obedience, hadn't he? He shoved her to her hands and knees on the bed, a fist full of brown hair betwixt ivory fingers. His hips slammed into her ass over and over again.

She was left with pink handprints on her skin.

As the grey sky faded to black, Katara brought him a glass of wine. They sipped silently together, watching the daylight disappear.

She stared at the clouds, "It's going to rain soon."

Zuko didn't tell her what Kanna said. It wouldn't rain until he brought them both peace.

He felt desperate, if not for the healing the spirits demanded of them, then for all the fucking, all the sex to make them one, again. Her voice stirred his blood. Her scent made his groin twitch.

Zuko dropped his glass on the ground, his teeth finding her neck and fingers scrambling at the sash around her waist.

He took her on the grass, with her robe open and spread beneath her back. He had her legs bent at the knee, pushed wide by a hand on either thigh. She moaned his name, half-lidded eyes watching his face. He just watched his cock disappear between those wet, swollen lips.

Katara came with a gasp, her fingers knotting in the grass. He cursed her name as his body poured into her.

Then, gold found blue. Her palm lifted to his chest, clenched into a fist against the scarred flesh, and Zuko lowered his mouth to hers, finally letting himself cry.

"I'd do it again, Kat. I'd do it everyday."

A strangled sob died in her throat. She wrapped her arms 'round his neck. "I know. That's what makes me angry."

"Because you think you aren't worth my life."

Katara swallowed, and looked away.

* * *

The first drops of rain started to fall as they made the journey to the hot springs, cold and stinging. It seemed neither felt them.

Zuko kept his arm around her shoulders, breathing fire so her skin would stay warm. Katara carried a pot of clay and nuzzled close. When they were waist deep in the steaming water, she explained that Kanna had given it to her.

"She said it would help us heal."

Katara scooped the blue paint onto her fingers. It was cooler than the rain. He hissed when she smeared the clay over the pink starburst that stained his chest.

"Why didn't you tell me, Kat?"

"How could I have told you? How do I explain that I'm angry you saved me?" She asked, after a slow sigh. A pregnant pause followed, but Zuko waited. Katara spoke again when she was ready. "It seems a bit selfish, doesn't it?"

"I can't recall a single moment of you being selfish." Zuko cupped her chin delicately. "Stubborn, maybe… and perhaps a bit snarky, but _hell,_ so am I."

He released her jaw, and Katara resumed her painting on his skin. The furrow between her brows was gone, though. He smiled down at her deep hues of blue.

"Don't, _for a second,_ Katara- don't believe you aren't worth my life. Don't worry that you're responsible for that day or this scar," He put his hand over hers on his sternum. "You're my wife. You're the greatest love I've ever known, and that is worth everything."

She kissed him then, something fierce and longing. She threaded through his hair, pressed closer until no space was left between them. Their fingers were soft and healing: hers, tracing his scars; his, dancing over every bit of flesh he'd neglected during the day's violence.

They moved together, slow and sensual, sending the water lapping at the edges of the pool and up their limbs. Hands splayed across skin, memorizing as much as possible. Lips searched for tongues, for teeth, for quiet moans. When they finished, in a symphony of curses and jumbled names, the distance was finally gone.

Zuko scooped her up when his strength returned, and climbed the steps of the pool.

During the walk back to their hut, the clouds opened up. Rain drowned them, and lightning crashed across the sky. For the first time in five years, neither of them flinched.


	4. A Lesson In Navigating (rougher seas)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What followed, she couldn't compare it to the previous night. There may have been similarities: the rasp in her ear, the pants of her name, the possession. He gave commands and she listened. But now, everything was slow, almost soft. He'd somehow found power over her, power over the wildfire in his veins, and every roll into her hips sang of control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut Week, Day 4 - Virginity

It was nearly dark when she woke again. As her eyes flickered open and followed the woven wood that made up the structural integrity of their hut, Katara knew she'd easily have slept coming night away, too.

Between their reparations in the hot spring and the fourth feast that morning, there'd been little time for rest. Her grandmother had even commented on it: the fatigue on her face, the lazy gait of her husband.

 _'Perhaps a nap would do you good?'_ she'd said.

Katara had laughed, _'If my husband permits.'_

She thought it unlikely, no matter how tired they were. Through the night, Zuko was driven by the electricity crackling across the sky. She ached for more and more, stitching together the space that'd separated them during the day.

Why would _this_ day be any different? They were making up for lost seconds, after all.

She rolled from her side to her back, stretching out into a long line of lean muscle and brown curves. Every inch of her screamed in protest. Her bones creaked. Her thighs complained of tender skin, and between them, her body boasted a thousand sensitivities.

A low groan slipped passed her lips, and her fingers skimmed over the tender skin that hid her ribs and hips.

Lifting up on her elbows, Katara glanced over the purple splotches around her wrists, then pushed away the quilt and peeked at the imprints of fingers staining her naked waist. The bruises were obvious, even in the dim dance of firelight.

"I was too rough."

Katara sat up all the way, finding her husband at the table with a cup of wine and an open book. His amber eyes neglected the pages, however, and ran over the length of her.

"Frowning isn't allowed in the sex hut," she teased, watching his lips set in a hard grimace. She slipped from her place on the bed, meaning to kiss the tightness away.

Within his reach, Zuko immediately took her hand, his thumb delicately tracing the muted black and blue that cut across the inside of her wrist.

He sighed, long and deep. "Look at you…"

 _"What?"_ The prowess in her stance faltered, shifting quickly to disappointment. "Zuko, I wanted that. I want more."

"I lost control. Tying you up… that was too far."

"I asked you to!"

Damn him and his honor. She could see it all over his face: this noble notion that he had to protect her and _spirits be damned,_ he wouldn't let any sort of craze overtake their marriage bed, again. Katara found that far too annoying, as the way his body claimed hers had left her screaming and shaking and coming again and again.

Hellbent on making a point - _she was fine_ \- Katara pulled water from the air with the hand he didn't have. When her fingertips glowed blue, she pressed them to her wrist. The bruise was gone in an instant. She tugged from his grasp, her fingers grazing his chin.

"I loved last night…" She dropped to the cushions, pushing between the table and him. Her legs straddled his lap, her hands skimming down his front to the knot at his waist, but Zuko only stiffened like she was made of glass. " _Please_ , darling."

His gaze traveled to her hips, his fingers settling over the marks he'd left. Resolution set in his jaw.

"That can't happened again."

_"Zuko!"_

Honestly, she was embarrassed by the desperation in her tone. Her voice was high-pitched and warbled, begging him, like she'd done again and again when he'd bound her wrists over her head and teased every inch of skin between her legs.

"Please, I- just-"

He was quick to silence her with a kiss and the grip on her hips pulled her into a rocking motion that recalled last night's memories. His eyes no longer seemed so dark. The gold almost turned molten. _Almost._

"It won't happen again, my love." Zuko remembered the same tone he'd used in the dark, something strong and dominant. But, where he'd previously ventured to the edge of harshness, his syllables remained soft, caressing her in a whisper. "Not without the proper aftercare."

Katara melted against him, each roll of her hips becoming more insistent. _Touch me, bind me, fuck me,_ every movement said.

His body was responding to the call, but before she could give any more attention to the thickening length against tender lips, his hands tightened on her waist and Zuko lifted her away.

She stood in front of him, scowling down at the top of his raven-covered head, and he simply stared at the thatch of curls between her legs. One hand grazed the inside of her leg, then gently- _oh, so fucking gently_ \- pushed through those curls and those swollen lips to test her response to two fingers pumping into her still wet core.

Katara gasped, almost pained, because every part of her was aflame, and Zuko hissed at the strangled sound.

"See?" He said, withdrawing his fingers and licking them clean. She wondered if he could taste himself on his fingertips "I should've known better… As your husband, I should've- I still have so much to learn."

"You're acting like I'm a fragile virgin," she laughed, "and how long has that been gone? Two years?"

His lips curved with the memory, and Katara knew he was reliving it: a journey to find his mother, a tent somewhere in the mountain ranges outside Republic City, a night that went far better than he ever could've hoped.

Zuko's eyes flashed, then. "Perhaps that's how I should act."

"What?" Her brows quirked at him. She couldn't claim the idea sounded all too terrible. She craved his light touch, his tender kisses, but being treated like she was shattered glass… _"Why?"_

With a gentle caress down the sides of her legs, warm fingers settled on the backs of her knees. He tugged her closer, so every inhalation provided him with the delicious scent of her sex, and each exhalation tickled across her lips.

"You're powerful, Katara. You're powerful and perfect and precious to me…"

Zuko lapped at her clit. Just a few times, but the warmth of his tongue was enough to make her pant. She tried to keep him there. She threaded her fingers in his hair, mewled with every gentle lick, but he still pulled away.

"We each wear the mark of a navigator," he said, his gaze flicking to the partially smeared paint on her forehead.

It was meant to symbolize a sextant- Kanna had drawn the two lines, both starting at the midpoint of each brow and slanting up until they met. She said that navigation was important to sailors. From their maiden voyage to their last, traversing rough waters required careful practice, and so should they practice the art of communication and compromise.

Whatever the spirits meant to teach through it, Zuko appeared to have figured it out.

"We've spent a countless number of nights together, Katara." In the absence of his tongue on her clit, he used his thumb, rubbing faint, teasing circles and occasionally stroking between her lips. "Even with the experience together, we make mistakes every now and again…" Zuko kissed her thigh, "Mistakes we must correct."

"How?" She asked, her fingers digging into raven locks.

Another lick around her clit. Another gasp fell from her lips. Zuko pushed her towards the bed with a gentle command, "Lay down."

"On my back?"

"On your stomach."

Katara did as she was told, perhaps with too much eagerness, but how was she supposed to help the tremor in her veins? His voice seemed to drip with honey, as if the sweetness in his eyes wasn't enough to make her lick her lips.

Prone on the bed, she balanced on her elbows, her gaze turned back to him. She hitched her hips slightly, making the curve of her lower back more pronounced and her ass look its best.

Katara smiled to herself when his cheeks tinged pink. "You like?"

"I like you better with your legs spread."

She obliged immediately. His eyes burned brighter with every inch between her feet.

"Better?"

Zuko swallowed. She watched his throat bob against the collar of his robe. A hungry stare was trained right between her thighs. A thirsty moan made her stomach twist.

_"Better."_

He dropped his robe before his weight hit the bed. His palm between her shoulder blades insisted that she lay flat, and as she obeyed, he swung a knee over her waist so his body was hovered over her and his heavy cock rested against the cleft of her ass.

Katara tried to roll into him, searching for friction, but his palms ran down to her hips.

"Be still," he insisted, his touch turning from rough to soothing. She felt him shift, then his lips were at the base of her neck. "Relax, my darling, let me please you."

Zuko left a trail down her spine, dotting each bump of vertebrae with an open-mouthed kiss. His breath stalled on the center of her back, heating tight muscles. At her waist, his fingers warmed her skin, working knots into submission and skirting around lingering bruises.

"Your ass was so lovely last night," he whispered, so low it made her shiver despite the fire burning in her blood. "You were covered in the outline of my hands," his voice took on a growl, then, "stained pink from my hips slamming into yours until you came."

Katara's breath caught. _"Yes…"_

With a cocky laugh, he moved further down the bed, foregoing the massage at her waist to coax moans of contentment from her lips by tickling across her hips. His mouth landed on her ass, dragging down the firm curve to her thigh, where his teeth sank into her flesh.

"Do that again," Katara murmured. " _Please_ , Zuko."

She felt him smile, the brush of his lips giving her goosebumps. He bit her skin until her fingers fisted in the sheets. Then, he let her go, licking the spot his teeth had been, before lifting up to his knees.

His hands worked down each leg, soothing her aching bones and worn muscles alike. He rubbed her feet, pecked each instep, making her giggle. Her toes curled on the sheets next, when his fingers danced up her, paying special care to the inside of her thighs.

"You're already wet." He sounded parched.

Another shift jostled the bed, then Katara gasped at a warm tongue between her legs, tormenting her with the slowest laps around her clit. Zuko didn't stop until she was wracked with tremors, then his hands found her hips, holding her tight against him while he licked into her. She ground her clit on his chin.

She swore he was signing his name again and again.

Any sense disappeared with that. The last thing she saw was a rumpled pillow, as her eyes fluttered shut and her body tensed with the coming wave. It built and built, then crashed into her like the sea and the shore and a long, loud moan echoed in the hut.

"God," she panted. " _Fucking…_ oh my god."

The bedding beneath her legs felt wet when he pulled away. Zuko ran a finger through her folds, then brought his hand to her lips.

"Do you know how good you taste?" He grunted when her mouth closed around his second knuckle. Katara felt his cock twitch against her ass, and rolled her hips, offering him a hint of friction. "So good… _so fucking sweet."_

She hoped his response to her - a few thrusts to meet her own - meant she'd get her fill of him finally, but somehow he reigned in the obvious lust. He tugged his hand away, and his fingers resume a careful dance across her shoulder blades, seeking out the strained muscles in her arms.

He traced every line in each of her palms, then kissed his way to her neck. It tickled and Katara laughed, following with a pleasant sigh when his fingers convinced the tendons along her clavicles to relax.

Soon, she was pliant and quiet, if not satiated for the night, until his attention turned lower, coming back to her clit.

As his fingertips made careful shapes, Zuko raised a question, "Do you want me to stop? I can let you rest tonight."

"No… I'll rest after," Katara replied, humming happily at the heavy weight now pressing against her drenched lips. "I want you."

A groan was all she received, a groan… and the all-consuming feel of him pushing into her, stretching her, lowering his body against hers when his hips were flush with her ass.

_"Kat…"_

What followed, she couldn't compare it to the previous night. There may have been similarities: the rasp in her ear, the pants of her name, the possession. He gave commands and she listened. But now, everything was slow, almost soft. He'd somehow found power over her, power over the wildfire in his veins, and every roll into her hips sang of control.

Katara only knew he was losing his grasp on reality by the thudding pulse in his chest. Every breath, every thrust- it grew more erratic, more heated.

When her body reached the edge again, she was sure his heart beat for the both of them. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. She only had him and she clung to him, riding the current until it abated, collapsing on the sheets with his sweaty cheek against her damp skin.

Zuko said her name again, _"Kat,"_ though she barely heard it over the fire's crackle.

Her eyelids felt heavy.

She was warm.

Sweet sleep.

* * *

He brought the hot springs to her that night. She was pulled from a dreamless sleep by a warm rag on her back.

 _"Shhh…"_ he whispered, "I'll take care of you."

She blinked against the lull of sleep, discovering his hair to be wet and his forehead clean.

"I love you, Zuko."

"Kat," his reply was soft, his touch with the wet cloth even softer, "I love you, too."

* * *

Katara woke the next morning, titled on her side. Her first glance around the sunlit hut confused her, all vision blocked by an ivory hill that rose and fell. Soon enough, her wits returned, and her hand grazed up her husband's rib cage.

She was staring into his chest, her head tucked under his chin and her body beneath an arm and a leg. Further inventory revealed a pleasant soreness in her limbs, but the pain of yesterday had long since disappeared. The bruises were fading, most of them had healed while her husband bathed her. That is, until she'd fallen asleep again, and her blood no longer commanded the tendrils of hot water.

She lifted her head, meaning to take in any neglected damage, but the second she stirred, Zuko let her go.

A smile decorated his face. "I made you tea."

"The citrus one, I hope."

He nodded and collected the twin cups, his own holding a caffeinated black tea that Katara detested.

"Ugh…" She sat up to take her own, clutching the quilt to her chest lest Gran Gran barge in. "How do you drink that stuff?"

Zuko's brow quirked. He raised the amber liquid to his lips. "The same as I drink all things… with _honor._ "


	5. A Lesson In Love (as undying as fire)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue eyes landed on him. Behind the tender comment, he could see the need. He knew she expected something urgent, expected his burning touch to roam over her breasts and between her thighs. Zuko couldn't blame her. They'd been at each other's throats throughout the day, but he meant it, when he said he'd be slow with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut Week, Day 5 - Embers

"A single flame can be miraculous," Kanna said, her fingertip painting a fire rune on Katara's forehead. "It provides food, closes wounds…" the woman sidestepped, and her work resumed with Zuko. "In the darkest of nights, the harshest of winters, just a _single_ ember can mean the difference between this life and the next."

He inhaled deeply, an attempt to calm tense nerves. Every banquet did this, filled him with a certain fear - Would he be good enough? Would the spirits let him keep her? - it being their fifth morning with the Southern Tribe didn't matter.

Zuko sucked in another long breath. The scent of earthy clay made his heart leap. His fists tightened.

Then, his wife adjusted her long hair and he caught the smell of moon peaches in the summer. The sweetness hid behind her ears, along her collarbones, and between her legs. He glanced to his left, spying a soft smile on her lips.

That was enough. His shoulders relaxed. His heart slowed. When he could hear Kanna over his pulse, he surreptitiously reached for his wife's hand.

"Fire is vital here. Even during war times, it was never something to be feared. It kept us alive. It kept us warm. And now…"

Zuko felt Katara's eyes on him, like she knew what was coming next.

Kanna continued, her tone, amused. "Well, given the chill in the air, I imagine this daughter of water counts herself lucky to lie next to a firebender."

A tinkle of laughter filled the banquet hall, Katara's the most beautiful of all, but that didn't stop Zuko's cheeks from burning red. However, soft lips pressed to his scar the moment Kanna was done with his mark, and as the couple stood, he recognized the sparkle in his wife's eyes to be pride.

"What is it?" he leaned closed and whispered.

Her bright blues shimmered, "My grandmother paid you the highest compliment… I'm happy, that's all."

His gaze stalled on her for a moment. Perhaps he'd missed what praise hid the nature of his element. As if in answer, Katara bobbed her head in Kanna's direction, mouthing _'listen.'_ He gave in, his attention returning to her words.

"...our marriage traditions center on Tui and La," the tribe's matriarch faced the crowd, her arms lifted in explanation, "As for our marriages themselves, the love that binds a man and his wife- it resembles fire. It may flicker. It may ebb and flow and fade, but like the fires here in the South...

"May their love never die." The response of the gathered men and women was instantaneous.

Kanna nodded, facing the couple once more. "May your love never die."

* * *

Zuko couldn't wipe the lopsided, half grin from his face. It barred all other expressions, staying put for the entirety of the ride out of the city. He supposed he should be happy his wife liked the look, as it was still there, alongside a peppy gait, when he led Katara from the sled to their hut.

"Thank you, Kanna!" He waved after the woman, then disappeared between the front flaps with his blue-eyed bender in tow.

The moment they were inside, his lips collided with hers.

A laugh broke the embrace. "What has gotten into you?"

"A number of things…" Zuko shrugged playfully, "Your grandmother complimented me, we've had an amazing amount of sex, and... I'm in love with you."

Katara smirked mischievously. _"Good."_

"Besides, what man wouldn't be happy…" He kissed her again, hard, backing her further into the hut, "...on the start of his fifth day with his wife," his hands on her waist kept her pressed against him, "a day that, if it's like all the others, promises endless fucking."

Zuko felt her smile.

 _"Endless?_ I thought even you had a limit? Or is my blessing that this-" A hand left his chest, skimming passed his abdomen to grip the bulge in his pants. Zuko couldn't help but thrust into her touch. "-will never go away?"

"It might not." He winked at her. "I sampled a few of my uncle's aphrodisiacs…"

 _"Oh!_ That's why you're like this. All… _crazed._ " A chuckle bubbled up her throat.

Zuko drowned it with another kiss, and feeling bold, picked her up. Her ankles linked behind his waist, her arms doing the same behind his head. His hands cupped her ass, and something like a growl caught in his chest when she circled her hips, grinding on him.

"God," he hissed. Katara grabbed at his hair, her eyes open and on his. He watched the lust ignite in them. "God, I fucking love you."

Zuko carried her to the bed, toppling on top of her with a throaty laugh. Her legs stayed around his waist, the movement of her hips growing hungry when he kissed down her neck.

"Take off your clothes. Everything."

He loosened the sash on her tunic, then rose to his knees.

"Somebody's bossy," She commented, pulling her top open with agonizing slowness.

She wasn't wearing any wrappings underneath, and the sight alone sent him into a frenzy. Zuko groaned, yanking his fur-lined shirt overhead and his pants down. Her eyes widened when his cock sprang free. He stroked himself twice, then collected the salty drop from the tip, and put his finger to her lips.

"Not bossy," he argued. He grit his teeth when she sucked _hard_ , moaning at his taste. "Eager."

Zuko jerked her pants down her legs, throwing them over the edge of the bed. His breath was wild, coming in heavy gasps. His blood felt like it'd been ignited. And the beauty of her, legs spread, dark wet curls... Katara smirked and played with her clit, crooning his name like the touch was his.

Then her own fingers were in her mouth, her tongue wrapping 'round them, and she left a wet trail down her neck to her breasts.

" _Come on_ , Fire Lord."

That was all the encouragement he needed. His teeth took the place of her fingers, tugging her nipple until she gasped. Zuko licked away the pain, a hard suck to the dusty bud made her grip his hair.

With a sharp twist on his long raven locks, his mouth was on hers again, his cock teasing her clit and down through dripping lips.

_"Fuck!"_

Katara cried out, her back arching under him when he pushed in deep.

 _"Fuck…"_ His curse mimicked hers, except his was drawn out, almost strained with the overwhelming need to move inside her. "You're so fucking tight."

Zuko savored those first few strokes. He'd pull out of her, so she could tease herself on the tip of him. He liked how she whimpered, how she felt, fluttering beneath him. Even more, he liked seeing every inch of his cock drenched by her lips. Then, when they both ached for more, he'd bring their hips flush, watching her eyes close and her mouth open. She always, _always,_ whined some variation of his name.

It didn't take long though, for the taunted rhythm to feel like torture. He wanted more, needed more, and the pace built like the wildfire spreading in his veins. _Fast. Hot. Relentless._ Katara quaked around him, clawed down his back in her version of a plea. When she cried out with her release, he hissed, and came, too.

 _"God,_ Kat." Zuko buried his lips in the hollow of her neck. "You drive me wild."

She hummed, "I know."

* * *

Zuko was attempting to read when Katara approached him with a cup of tea.

"It'll help calm you down," she said, one rather judgemental glance drifting down his bare form. She held the cup out, a touch of force in her tone. "Drink it. _Please_. Before I'm forced to call the healer about your… well, your dick."

He might've smirked, if the prospect of some crotchety bender inspecting him hadn't sent a wave of terror through him. "Why on earth would you do that?"

"Look, Zuko," Katara looked exasperated, "while I'm grateful for the six or so orgasms, it's been over an hour and you're still... " she made some kind of obscene gesture towards his groin, and then grumbled. "I have no experience with penile problems, and I honestly don't think you should ever have another cup of aphrodisiac tea ever again."

"Penile problems?" He nearly started laughing.

However, her sharp glare forbade it. "Yes, _darling._ " The delicate china was shoved towards him again. "Now, drink!"

"Fine, fine… I don't think it'll help."

"What?!"

He grinned sheepishly, "I may or may not have had several cups… I didn't feel anything happening and I was certain-"

"It takes a while to kick in!" Katara growled, "Tui and La, Zuko, you're a mess."

"Hey, it's not as bad as it could be." Zuko couldn't help but chuckle, despite his wife's sour expression. "Imagine how terrible it would have been, if I'd pitched a tent at breakfast?"

She made a face like she was going to combust. "Just drink the fucking chamomile tea!"

* * *

"Would you like to know something?" Her soft voice coaxed him from a daze, her touch whispering over his damp chest.

They were cuddled together at the end of the bed, naked as always, with their feet hanging off the edge and skimming the floor. It seemed that his uncle's tea had finally worn off, or Katara's chamomile tea had finally taken effect- either way, he was calm, if not tired from the day's repeated trysts.

"Did you know, love," His wife repeated herself, her tone sultry, and something in her question piqued his interest, "the penguins here, they mate for life. Isn't that interesting?"

"Do they?" Zuko captured her fingers and brought them to his lips. Her skin carried the scent of sea and sex, a stirring combination.

He wondered, between that tea and her presence, if he'd ever truly be worn out. And, intrigued by the idea of fucking her for hours on end, Zuko made the mental note to bring that tea blend back to the Fire Nation.

He flattened her hand on his abdomen, a part of him hoping she'd take her hand lower. Zuko kept his voice light, however. "Are we penguins, then?"

Katara lifted her head from the dip of his shoulder, looking thoughtful, "In a way, actually."

"Excuse me?" A scowl turned his mouth down, but she ignored him.

"The male presents his female with a stone… and that's where the Water Tribes derived the tradition of betrothal necklaces."

She touched the antique jewelry around her neck. He'd left the original stone in place, the one from her mother's necklace. When he proposed, however, Katara was thrilled to see the worn blue ribbon replaced with a delicate, silver band.

For the moment, any thoughts of sex disappeared. It'd been six months since he'd given her that necklace, and her talk about the penguins made him worry, "Does my stone count? Are you mine for the rest of my life?"

"Will you love me for life?"

He nodded, much more than was necessary. "I love every part of you."

"Do you?" Katara slipped away, her curls tickling the inside of his arm, and laid flat on the bed beside him. A smile teased him, and that sultry tone reappeared. "Show me."

Zuko followed her, rolling onto his side. His fingers skimmed up her arm, starting at her wrist and grazing over the brown skin to her shoulders. Then, his lips were on her neck, leaving a searing trail of kisses from her ear to her collarbone, and Katara titled her head. He reveled in the way her breath hitched.

"You won't mind if I take my time," he murmured, his words ghosting up from where his tongue lapped at her breast.

"Not at all."

"Scoot up," Zuko said, gesturing towards the pillows above her head. When she'd settled there, he rose to his knees at the end of the bed. "I can't believe you are mine."

"I've always been yours."

Blue eyes landed on him. Behind the tender comment, he could see the need. He knew she expected something urgent, expected his burning touch to roam over her breasts and between her thighs. Zuko couldn't blame her. They'd been at each other's throats throughout the day, but he meant it, when he said he'd be slow with this.

"Every part of you holds a tremendous beauty," he traced along the ridge of her ankle with his thumb, "because every part of you reveals a different aspect of you that I love."

Curiosity flashed in her gaze. "Go on."

Zuko lifted her leg from the bed and his thumb was quickly replaced by a few short kisses to the inside of her ankle.

"You took the world by storm, Katara." His lips grazed over her instep, nibbling here and there, until he reached her toes and offered a peck to each one. "From the day I met you, you've stood your ground for anyone and everyone."

He kissed the pad of her other foot now, whispering, "You care for others - some more than they deserve - but, no matter who asks, you go to them. That is why I love your feet."

Zuko slid up the bed, straddling her upper thighs. Her hands left the sheets, coming up to his chest and sliding down his stomach towards his thick length. He halted her efforts, grabbing her hands.

"You hold a talent few could dream of." His fingers move over her palm, massaging and tickling her skin. "And, I don't mean just your bending. Kat, you've healed me in more ways than I can name. Your fingers broke down barriers. Your palms took away pain. Every touch is gentle and kind, and that is why I love your hands."

"Zuko…" His name whispered from Katara's lips.

All he could manage was a small smile, his throat tight with emotion. "Thank you, Kat."

He dropped her hands to her chest before settling lower on the bed. There, nestled between her legs, Zuko kissed along the length of her shin to her knee.

"Your legs, though you may complain about their shape or their size, speak immeasurably to your strength."

Warm fingers trailed up her thigh. Her breath quickened with anticipation when his mouth followed.

"Your legs are powerful. They have carried you through many hardships and they carried you to me."

"Is that why you love them?" Katara asked, her fingers gathering fistfuls of hair now that his lips brushed dark, damp curls.

"Yes, that is why I love your legs."

Ever so slowly, he kissed from her left hip to the right, taking his time to return to the apex of her thighs. But he only teased her, blowing warm air over wet folds, making her stomach tense and her hips lurch.

Zuko smiled at the sounds leaving her throat. "Patience, my love."

"Patience was never my strong suit."

He laughed, "Perhaps that's why it didn't make my list."

"You have a list?" Katara griped, lifting to her elbows.

He met her glare with one of his own, though his look was far more audacious. "I'm almost done."

The desire returned to her eyes, and to make up for his teasing, Zuko lowered his head between her thighs once again. She nearly shrieked at the first pass of his tongue and her hips bucked forward into his chin, begging for more.

His hand left her leg, parting her slick folds to give his tongue more freedom and there was a low thrum in his throat.

It seemed too much for her. Under his touch, her skin was on fire. Katara trembled like she was going to explode or fall apart or burn alive. And, just when her back started lifting from the bed, just when her hands twisted so tight in his hair he thought he'd cry, his mouth fell away and collided with hers.

She tasted of salty food and citrus tea, and mixing between their tongues, was something ruddy and sensual.

Zuko drank her in, slowly lowering his weight on top of her, aligning their hips.

"Finally," he murmured, somehow fighting the desperate urge to sink into her, "Finally, we reach your heart."

He breathed in pants, the tip of him pressing into her. It would be so easy to thrust, so easy to forget all this and just fill her up, but her gaze was open, vulnerable… she was waiting for him to finish.

"From the day we met, your heart was open to me. You've seen every part of me, and you _still_ let me in." Zuko put his hand over the rampant beat in her chest. "Your heart has always been big enough for both of us, and that is why I love your heart."

His vision blurred, unexpectedly, and he would've looked away, if not for her fingers caressing up his cheek. He couldn't imagine a life without her - he was hers, she was the breath in his lungs.

Finding her lips again, Zuko kissed her desperately, licking and nibbling and gasping, until finally, when he couldn't wait any longer, he pushed into her.

His eyes fluttered shut and the perfectly still moment seemed to stretch over a lifetime. Her heart thudded against his chest, he felt so impossibly loved, so alive. Zuko's gaze met hers, and he groaned.

"You're so beautiful, Katara, so, so beautiful. And I love every part of you."

Then, he was moving and his pace grew gradually, like their love had over the years- Slow and endearing, fast and heartbreaking, rough and tender and careful and intense. A thousand emotions, all tangled up with their limbs.

Her body responded to his, and his to hers, until they were falling over that precarious edge and he couldn't tell where he ended and she began.

The moans and sighs were indecipherable, mixing and mingling in the space between their lips, and he heard his name being whispered over and over and over.

_"Zuko. Zuko. Zuko."_

The room was suddenly quieter and he slowed, kissing down her neck.

He couldn't imagine a more content moment, even when compared to the dozens of others they'd shared in the recent days. His head fell to her chest and Katara wrapped her arms around him.

"I love you."

He smiled, willing his pulse to slow. "I gave you my heart, Katara, instead of a stone. You have me, you have my love… and spirits or fire or penguins be damned, that will never change."


	6. A Lesson In Fortitude (to weather the storms)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And there was something to be said for the urgency in his every movement- lifting her from the sled, carrying her across the wild grass to their bed, standing an arm's length away, his chest heaving beneath a heavy cloak, eyes dark and glinting hard.
> 
> "What is it?" she asked, her fingers clutching the bed spread.
> 
> He licked his lips, stepping closer to the foot of the bed so his knees nudged hers apart. "I don't like storms either."
> 
> His mouth bowed to hers, a moan rising up on his tongue for her to swallow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut Week, Day 6 - Storm

 

 

 

The moment she stepped foot in the open air, she was nauseous.

"Katara?" Her husband's hand was on her lower back in an instant, the familiarity of the gesture warm and soothing.

It did little to combat a dry heave, however, and she was bent over in the cold without warning.

His strong, ivory fingers gathered her curls, bundling the long locks at the nape of her neck. He didn't mutter condolences, he didn't tell her it would be alright. He simply stood by her, tracing across the midpoint of her back; _her beacon,_ as she'd called him before the feast.

"Sorry," she mumbled, when the violent retching let her be. Katara straightened and wiped her lips, her free hand washing their boots and the snow-laden street clean. "I- _uh-_ I don't know what's wrong."

Zuko produced a flask of something far too warm. She took a sip, swishing it in her teeth, liking how it burned on the way down.

"Whiskey," he said, when her brows lifted in question. "It helps… with the wind."

"I guess the sleigh ride can be a little nippy," Katara tried to force a smile.

He noticed, almost immediately - _goddamn_ him and those molten gold eyes. His palm flattened on her back, again, and he led her towards the waiting sled.

"The ride can also be a prime opportunity to talk."

Zuko took one of her hands, still steadying her with a touch at her waist, and helped her settle on the sleigh's bench. When he was beside her, looking at her with imploring eyes, she found it hard to ignore the inquiry in his gaze.

Katara made a gesture at her forehead, at the abstract lines meant to symbolize strength. "Fortitude, she says… fortitude to weather the storms… how is that a gift?"

Her husband fell silent, though the _tap-tap-tap_ of his thumb on the back of her hand told Katara he was thinking. Zuko didn't speak again until the sled jolted forward. His eyes slid over the passing huts to meet hers.

"I don't know, my love." His voice was low. He softened the words even more by brushing her cheek. "I had the same doubts when we battled the gifts of obedience and healing… the spirits will show us in time."

Honesty. She liked it. She appreciated it. His penchant for saying exactly what he thought was one of the reasons she loved him. Right now, however, her heart cried out for faux security.

"I don't want them to."

Katara crossed her arms stubbornly. While the motion could ward off the cold and any number of unwanted advances, it had no power over her wandering thoughts. All she could see were dark clouds, the same that'd hung over her with the death of her mother. Swirling uncertainty and threatening anxiety- she thought, when she met Zuko and fell for Zuko and _married him_ … she thought these fears were abated for good.

She was supposed to feel secure, _right?_

The sleigh's speed picked up. Zuko shifted next to her, his arm covering her shoulders as the wind whipped around them. She wished he'd say something. Hell, she wished he wouldn't. She just wanted him to kiss away this… this _fear._

Fear of the unknown. Fear of the future. _'May the spirits bless you with the fortitude to weather the storms.'_ She scowled at the echo of her grandmother's words.

"My mother always said the future was a storm," Katara murmured. "It's unknown and unrelenting- you can't stop it."

She sighed, nerves knotting in her stomach, and buried her face in his neck. His collar chafed her cheek. The flyaway hairs that refused to stay within the confines of his half-updo made her nose tickle. She reached up, capturing the raven strands, and coaxed them towards the understated crown he wore.

"I don't want a storm," Katara said, her fingers combing through the thick locks that brushed his collarbones, "unless it's a storm of fire… I don't want it."

She caught him swallowing out of the corner of her eye. His tone was tight.

"I'll see what I can do."

* * *

Zuko had a way of knowing when she wanted to talk. He also knew when she didn't.

And there was something to be said for the urgency in his every movement- lifting her from the sled, carrying her across the wild grass to their bed, standing an arm's length away, his chest heaving beneath a heavy cloak, eyes dark and glinting hard.

"What is it?" she asked, her fingers clutching the bed spread.

He licked his lips, stepping closer to the foot of the bed so his knees nudged hers apart. "I don't like storms either."

His mouth bowed to hers, a moan rising up on his tongue for her to swallow.

Katara pushed his cloak off and tugged his hair loose. The crown clattered to the floor, reflecting firelight like a kaleidoscope in the dim space. Zuko had her tunic open and on the bed, her bindings unraveling with a simple tug.

A hot tongue teased her breasts, hotter breaths made her nipples pebble against his lips.

She lifted just enough for him to pull her leggings over her hips. Calloused hands- how were they always so gentle, so careful?- flipped Katara to her stomach. Warm fingers traveled along the dip in her back, then left her alone.

Half a minute of anticipation passed. Katara listened to the telltale signs of his pants rustling down his thighs. Then, he was on her, against her, _inside_ her.

She was burning up, impossibly full with one thrust. Zuko growled when she hitched her hips, making the angle deep, giving him the space he needed to slip a hand between her swollen clit and the damp sheets.

He panted her name in her ear, his clothed chest against her naked back. His fingers teased between her legs. His thrusts had her eyes rolling back, her muscles tense.

The burst of pleasure hit her like a wave.

Zuko breathed fire.

* * *

It may've been a minute or an hour… Katara didn't know. She didn't care. When he finally pulled out of her, it was too soon. She felt desperate for a return to the closeness of sex.

"Wait." Katara flipped to her back in a near panic, only to find him at the bed's side, dragging his shirt over his head.

"I'm not going anywhere…" He gave her a soft smile. "I'm just undressing."

Zuko kicked out of his pants quickly, and the furthest he went from the bed was to pick up the golden crown, which he set safely out of the way on table. Then he came back to her, nestled in the middle of the sheets with her on his chest.

"Talk to me, Kat." Soft fingers trailed down her side. "Tell me what you need."

"You…"

Katara bit her lip on the end of her reply, not entirely sure his presence alone covered it. She'd never felt so vulnerable, and while the physical aspect was tended to, emotionally- her walls were going up. Katara thought, if talking was what her husband wanted, then perhaps he could be the one to do it.

She took her chance, "What made you hate them?"

Her question alluded to their talk of storms, but the hitch in his breath spoke of their shared distrust of the future.

"My mother…" Zuko swallowed audibly. The hand that tickled her spine halted, flattening against her skin. "It rained for weeks after she left. My uncle said it was a monsoon, that it was natural for the time of year. The connection, though, I never got over it."

"And now? What makes you hate them now?"

Katara looked up, a tap on his chin coaxing his eyes down. She hoped her own were warm, inviting, if not holding the same hurt she recognized in his. Maybe he'd find comfort in that.

Zuko's fingers dug in at her waist. "I don't want them to take the love I have left."

Tears threatened on her lashline. Katara blinked them away, and he moved at the same time. His mouth was on her neck, again, a leg pushing hers wider. She decided, when he kissed her and the kiss grew fervent, that for now, his body between her legs was all she wanted.

* * *

She woke from a fevered dream- dark clouds and darker ships. The past. Or was it coming? A cold sweat covered her skin.

"Katara?"

Zuko was on his side, watching her with veiled apprehension.

Those eyes.

Right now, the gold was haunting, a reminded of years passed when she feared fire, feared the men who carried it.

_Tui and Lai, those eyes._

"Fuck the spirits," she hissed. "Fuck the spirits, and fuck _me_."

Katara rolled her belly, only needing one look between them to say what she wanted. She felt his teeth sink into her shoulder.

The tide that rose in her chased the nightmares away.

* * *

"I'll be whatever you need." His murmured words caressed her thigh.

Katara pushed a hand into his loose hair, guiding his mouth closer and closer until a kiss just above her clit made her gasp. " _This…_ this is what I need.

"Your beacon or your storm of fire…" He closed his eyes, though she kept watching him. His tongue parted her lips, lapped up with a low groan in his throat, made circles around that sensitive bud until the world seemed to spin. "You have me, Katara, until I die."

She whined at the broken contact, whimpered at the cool rush of his breath. She tugged his hair, hissing when the torment began anew.

"And after?"

He kissed her, nipped her, licked her… until Katara couldn't do much more than sigh his name, sigh a hundred curses into the warm air of their hut. She grabbed at him and the sheets, rocked against his chin, trembled with every wave of friction.

A few skilled strokes of his tongue was all it took; his tongue and his lips and two fingers moving inside her. Half-closed eyes landed on his- his, so hungry, so needy, melting with some emotion Katara couldn't name.

Was it fear? Was it love?

Her back lifted off the bed with the rush of her climax.

"Even then," Heated lips, tasting of sex, found hers. Narrow hips settled between her legs, _"Always."_

* * *

The late evening had Zuko growling in his sleep. His hands fisted the sheets and sweat smeared the mark of strength across his forehead, the dark blue looking more like a garish bruise than a spiritual gift.

Katara put her palm to his chest, her healing touch calling the perspiration to collect for her use.

"Darling, it's just a dream."

Her words coaxed him awake, her skill coaxed the liquid to glow. She let out a deep sigh when his heart calmed beneath her fingertips.

Zuko sucked in a breath. "Thank you."

"Relax," Katara whispered. She lifted to her hands and knees, staring at his sternum and kissing lower. "Relax, and just enjoy me."

* * *

Katara didn't think they'd sleep that night. Not well, at least.

The spirits had some kind of hold on their hearts, a power over their dreams. Whether for better or for worse, they'd spent the day trapped in feverish images of the past… or twisted in a tangle of a brown and ivory limbs.

She didn't mind the latter. She only wished for an end to the torture in between every joining of their hips.

"Maybe if we took a bath?" she suggested, "That's what we do, right? To show we're ready for the next blessing?"

Zuko shook his head, "We're not. We haven't… we haven't learned anything."

"What is there to learn?" Katara pouted over her lukewarm tea.

The sun had disappeared an hour ago. She was tired, slightly sore between her thighs, and she honestly couldn't count the number of times they'd made the bed creak. Even her insatiable spouse looked worn out. An irony, when she remembered his stamina yesterday.

She growled, lifting her cup for another disappointing sip. "The spirits are assholes."

That made him laugh, and Katara realized it was the first time she'd heard it since the morning. She was determined to keep it there, that lopsided smile she adored

"You know," she found his eyes across the table, like she was propositioning a stranger at a bar, "you're beautiful, when you smile like that."

"You're beautiful when you smile and when you frown," he smirked, leaning towards her.

"Are you trying to get me in bed, my Lord?"

"Is it working?"

Katara nodded coyly. "How unfortunate that I'm married… You have a confidence about you that just _screams_ 'well hung.'"

His laugh filled the hut again, his grin bright enough to light the space.

"Agni… I can't tell if I should wink or blush."

With her spirits lifted for the time being, Katara left her place at the table, and came around to find a new seat in his lap. Their noses bumped in a traditional Water Tribe kiss. She linked her hands behind his neck.

"I don't have to worry about the future with you, do I?"

If Zuko was surprised by the change in direction, he didn't show it. Instead, he held her tighter, and pecked her lips.

"I told you, I'll be whatever you need."

"That's just it," Katara said. "You're already everything."

He pulled back for an explanation, his eyes curious.

"My dreams today…" she paused to gather her thoughts. "I saw my mother's passing, the war, the first time you visited the South Pole… even Ba Sing Se."

"Not my finest moment," Zuko commented, his voice twinged with regret.

Katara offered him a gentle smile, "No- but, my hunt of Yon Rha, the Agni Kai, every second we've had together since then." She bit her lip, fighting the familiar sting of happy tears, and placed her hand over the scar on his chest. "You're my future, Zuko. I don't know why I doubted it."

"Because the spirits are assholes."

She giggled, leaning her forehead on his. A happiness danced in his golden eyes, as wild as firelight. It warmed her, comforted her, and she felt foolish, honestly, for fearing what even the spirits didn't know.

"The spirits-" Katara agreed, bumping his lips for a kiss, "-are assholes."


	7. A Lesson in Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was no tentativeness in his touch, no hesitation lingering in the physical manifestation of how he felt towards her. He loved her. Even when he hated her, he loved her. And, if his throat was going to close up around emotional vulnerability, maybe he could convey something with his tongue in her mouth. 
> 
> If he couldn’t… at least, the aggression flooding his veins would find a release.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut Week, Day 7 - Aggression

It was nearly dawn on the seventh day before the newlyweds ventured to the hot springs. From Zuko’s guess, and the way his blood stirred with renewed energy, the sun would break the horizon in less than an hour.

As they shed their clothes, he sent up a silent prayer that the spirits wouldn’t mind. They’d only been honoring Tui and La’s demands.

Hour after hour, he’d responded to the kisses of his wife, to her cries, to her gentle touch and needy pleas. His body ached, sheer exhaustion finally having its way and forcing them from the bed to the soothing waters. Every muscle screamed when he stepped over the pool’s ledge and sank into the water.

Zuko could only imagine the fatigue that plagued Katara. She hissed when she joined him in the water.

“Sore?” he asked, drifting closer.

Katara nodded tiredly, “I feel like I’ve aged a hundred years.”  

“No sleep does that to a person,” he chuckled.

His hand on her waist coaxed her to turn her back to him. Zuko brushed her wet curls aside, his fingers skimming the slender curve of her neck, then set to work on the knots in her shoulders. He chased tender tendons across her scapula, moving inwards to her spine. The vertebrae raised bumps down her back, and he danced over every one before massaging the skin over her ribs.

The water was already warm, but he made his fingers warmer, getting her to sigh heavily, a moan on her breath.  

“Better?”

His lips tickled the space behind her ear.

 _“Much_ better.”

Katara tilted her head to give him access to her throat. Zuko obliged with a spread of kisses over her pulse, and sent up another prayer: for a day of simplicity, peace.

She’d been… _desperate_ … through the night, in a way he’d never seen.

She always had plans. Even when the world threw obstacles in her path, she’d push through and move around, her eyes on the future she wanted. He’d been the greatest obstacle, though, and the fevered dreams about iron ships on stormy seas were bent on reminding her of that.

The anger was gone. It’d been gone for years.

Zuko knew Katara no longer blamed him for his teenage mistakes or the Fire Nation’s war path, but her forgiveness didn’t mean the scars had faded. _The future was a storm,_ she’d said, and with every kiss, every touch, every thrust, she’d searched for the reassurance that _he_ wouldn’t be part of that storm.

And, maybe, he was still desperate to chase away her worries.  

He found a delicious section of skin where her neck met her shoulder, one that tasted vaguely of sex and sweat. His thumbs ventured beyond her ribs, rubbing circles around the dimples right above her ass, and his fingers dug into the side of her hips.

“You’re trying to seduce me,” she breathed.

“Am I?” Zuko smiled into her skin, running his nose up to the line of her jaw. He nipped the shell of her ear, inhaling deeply. She smelled like him, like she’d been beneath him all night. “Can you go again?”

Katara’s laugh reverberated in the water, “Can _you?_ ”

He grabbed her tighter, pulling her bare body flush to his, the quickly growing length pressed against her backside proving a point. One circle of her ass had him groaning and her smiling.

“Gently,” she murmured, dragging his hands from her waist to her chest.

His teeth sank into her neck, but his fingers were soft, deft, juxtaposing the bite. Her breasts were perfect in his hands, full and heavy. Zuko rolled her nipples between his forefingers and thumbs, wishing his tongue was on the pert, dusty buds, but he didn’t think he could give up the grinding rhythm she was rubbing into him.

Katara gripped his thighs like vice, doubling her efforts to get him hard and aching every time he so much as sighed. Her head was thrown back, resting on his shoulder, and her body sent waves through the crystal waters.

When he found the willpower to pull his lips from her skin, his eyes from the contrast of ivory hands on full, brown breasts, he caught her mouth moving with breathy moans and whispered pleas.

“Tell me,” he demanded, one hand ghosting down her smooth stomach, “Tell me what you want.”

His fingertips left behind phantoms shapes on her clit, so light and feathery that Katara keened like she was in pain.

“More. _Lower.”_

Zuko smiled against her ear, brushing passed the thatch of dark curls to the heat between her thighs. She was already so swollen, so ready— he pressed two fingers inside of her, loving the sounds she made.

“Good?”

Katara answered with a curse, rocking into the heel of his palm.  

Every inch of her sex was warm. Warm and slick and silky— her body responded to him easily and quickly, despite the hours they’d spent wearing the other down. Soon, she was begging for him, for his cock, for a release with him inside of her.

Zuko hooked one of her legs over his arm, finding the angle he needed. He kept up the small circles on her clit, making her tremble all the more when his cock teased her lips.

Her hands reached back, twisting into his hair with a wordless plea. He grabbed at her breasts, her waist, her hips— his fingers left marks on the feminine curves.

They moaned in unison when he sank into her completely.

It was a moment before he moved, a moment that stretched as his body stretched hers, a moment marked with a dozen kisses up her neck and Katara tugging at his hair. She was panting, like him, _aching,_ like him… They both wanted friction, but Zuko wanted to revel in the tight heat that drowned out all other senses.

Her hands soon disappeared beneath the spring’s surface, gripping his ass and coaxing him to move with her.

He started a slow, sensual pace; gentle, like she’d asked. But it seemed no time at all before the water was lapping at the edges with frothy waves. Her cries were getting louder, longer— an indecipherable stream of his name mixed with praise. Every stroke was getting faster and wilder, erratic and crazed.

Zuko buried his face in her neck, breathing a dozen curses against her skin. He felt her body tighten around him, and her nails dug into his scalp so fiercely he could’ve cried out, but a second later, her name was all he could say.

_“Kat—”_

_“—Zuko.”_

Pure bliss filled his veins, sending a tremor to his limbs and slapping half a grin on his face. When his pulse slowed, and Zuko lifted her away, the smile lingered.

“You look proud of yourself,” Katara smirked, sinking to her neck in the pool.

“Is that not allowed?” He laughed, then leaned back in the water to wet his hair. “I got off, I got my wife off… not a bad way to start the day.”

“Start it? Or end it? 

 _“Agni.”_ Zuko sat up, untangling the longer strands that stuck to his chest. “I bet my crown your grandmother says something about _how tired we look_.” 

“Now you’re shy about the night of conquest?”

Katara bat her eyelashes playfully, which made his frown fade behind mischief.

“If you want me to brag, I’ll brag, darling.” Zuko feigned concern, “I’m not sure how your father and brother will feel about it, but _hell_ , I guess we’ll find out over breakfast. 

Her mouth fell open. “N- No! You- You will not.”

“Oh? On whose authority?”

“Mine!” Katara scowled indignantly. “My authority! I’m the Fire Lady!” 

“As you wish,” He pressed a soft kiss to her temple, his eyes closed as he reveled in her smell and the truth that he would have her for the rest of his life, “my lovely Queen.”

* * *

 

“Are you nervous?”  Zuko poised question casually, leaning closer to her slender frame, his arm strewn across her shoulders as the sleigh skimmed across snow and ice.

“Yes…” Katara said, after a moment of pondering. “I’ve been nervous before every lesson.” She squeezed his leg tenderly. “It’s worth it though, because I get to be with you. I get to be yours.” 

Her answer warmed his chest, making his heart swell with pride. “Will this morning be different?”

She shook her head, “Not really. My father may give a speech, but the feast and the blessing will be very much the same.” Her gloved fingers curled around the hem of a woven quilt, and she tugged it up to her chin to fight the Pole’s frigid air. “Tonight will be different, however.”

Zuko’s breath caught. He’d been keeping it steady, keeping his temperature at a heightened level to warm her during the sled’s journey, but of course, she always said something that caught him off guard.

“Wh-what? What do you mean?” He spluttered through his nose, glaring at her. “Why do I feel like you’re about to giggle at my expense?”

“It’s so easy to rile you up!” Katara protested. She _did_ manage to smother her laugh in her palm before explaining, “After we bathe, however, we will be required by the elders.”

“Oh.”

He tried to settle with that answer. His wife was nonchalant, with a slight smile on her lips and a quick shrug, but his mind drifted to the horrendous thought he’d had when they first arrived.

“We- we don’t have to—” 

This time, her laugh was loud, “Agni, Zuko, that has _never_ been our tradition.” Then her smile faded and she turned a teasing smirk his way. “The way you worry, though… Do I need to be concerned about an audience when we consummate our union in the Fire Nation?”

“It used to be our custom, but I almost positive they’ve done away with it…” His brow furrowed as he feigned nerves, and when Katara’s face shifted to a look of complete horror, Zuko chuckled.

Her fist connected with his shoulder. “Damn you, Fire Lord.”

* * *

 

Every moment of the feast was true to Katara’s word: familiar, similar, _expected._

Kanna had drawn a single wave across his forehead. She’d spoken about the ocean, about its violent currents and gentle tides, the way foamy blue lapped at worn paths in the sand.

She talked about trust, obedience, healing, navigating, love, and fortitude, about the body of marriage being formed by six chosen virtues, and the head… by forgiveness.

Zuko couldn’t fathom why they’d be blessed with something they clearly possessed— he wouldn’t be on his knees in this tribe if forgiveness didn’t already thrive between him and his wife. He’d wondered if the final lesson was the same for all couples. Perhaps others struggled with this. Perhaps he and Katara had struck a vein of luck, having already mastered this lesson.  

Then, Katara whispered in his ear that her father and mother had learned sacrifice.

Kanna and Pakku grappled with patience.

Sokka and Suki, change.

And, it was _after_ the feast, when the sled stopped near their hut, that Zuko realized the final day would be far different than either of them thought.

A misplaced dread settled in his belly. His prayer for a happy last day, for a smile-filled, sigh-filled, sex-filled final day had been futile.

 _‘The spirits are assholes.’_  

Zuko smirked darkly, remembering his wife’s irritated comment.

“It’s always the hardest,” Kanna said, after Katara left the sled with a soft smile. She was halfway across the grassy plain to the hut. Zuko stayed behind, his fingers grasping at the sled’s blue, painted edge, his attention on the elderly woman.

“What is?”

“The last day… it’s always the hardest.”

“Why?” he asked, catching his bottom lip between pearly teeth.

A reluctance hung in her light blue eyes. It bore too much resemblance to the last look Katara had thrown his way… just before their fight beneath Ba Sing Se.

“Kanna, _why?_ She’s happy… Kat’s happy. Why do we have to…”

He wasn’t sure what he meant, or what direction his thoughts were wandering. Nervousness made his heart race, his breath tight, but it wasn’t the same jittery excitement he’d experienced throughout the week. It was fear— a deep-seated fear of what was coming.

How many couples made it six days? How many couples were given six blessings, only to fail on the seventh? Zuko grimaced, rubbing his forehead with a long sigh.

The matriarch interceded, “The spirits have had six days to learn your hearts and search your souls.” She stepped close enough to grasp his wrist, tugging his hand away from his face. Clay was smeared across his fingertips, and Zuko swore it flashed an eerie shade of luminescent green.

“They’ve learned by now,” Kanna said, “what makes your relationship strong. It’s always something simple, something that’s been shared between you and your spouse since the beginning, something you think has no faults— but Tui and La find the cracks. They’ll challenge you… with memories and vision, with old wounds.”

He blinked, and the green was gone, but the deep lines between Kanna’s eyes were not, and Zuko wondered if he _wasn’t_ imagining things.

“How did you and Pakku get through it? Or- or even Hakoda and Kya. Agni, if they knew what the sacrifice was, how did they—”

“You been given six blessings, have you not?”

Zuko nodded. The lump clogging his throat made talking impossible.

“Let them guide you.”

* * *

 

It took a remarkable amount of courage to enter the hut. After their morning of contentment, the bath and the jovial sleigh ride, Zuko needed a heavy dose of strength to blink away the bleary tears that clouded his vision. 

Katara knelt at the table with two cups of tea, nursing the steeping leaves with elegant twirls of her forefinger. He let out a sigh to announce himself, and she looked up with half a smile.   

“Nice of you to join me.”

Zuko only swallowed. With the corners of her mouth turned up and her hair in a braid, she looked six years younger. If he didn’t have his bearings, his wits, about him, he would’ve sworn he was staring into the hopeful eyes of a fourteen year old master.

His heart squeezed like she had it in a vice. For a second, he wasn’t seeing the rawhide floors or the quilt-covered bed. The blue and gold beads in her hair, the red dress she chose that morning— it all vanished.

Everything was stained with green.

“Zuko?”

Her question broke his trance, and Zuko looked at her with mild surprise as she stood and left the table. Katara took his hands, leading him to sit on the edge of their bed.

“Are you okay?” She brushed his chin, drawing his eyes to hers. “Talk to me.”

Zuko wasn’t sure what to say. His mouth opened and closed for half a minute, his mind unable to reconcile the sharp crack of the past _‘I thought you changed!’_ with the soft murmurs she was pressing into his skin.

Her lips grazed his cheek, leaving kisses along the divide between ivory skin and scar tissue. When Katara pulled back, she licked her thumb, and rubbed away a smudge of clay right above his left eye.

He laughed, “Thank you, _Mother,_ ” and captured her hand in his own, pecking each fingertip.

“Excuse me for helping his Highness look slightly less disheveled,” Katara smiled. “If that makes me motherly…”

She linked their fingers in her lap, her expression turning serious as she trailed off, like she could sense the palpable turmoil roiling in his mind. He was never as talented at hiding his thoughts as he liked to think, and certainly never with her. She always knew, and she always broached the subject… which made him wary now, given her apparent silence.

Zuko sighed, breaking the connection of their hands and running his fingers through the shorter raven strands that refused to behave like the rest of his hair. 

“I don’t want to fight, Kat.”

“Why would we fight?”

Her voice lifted in the way it did when she wanted to seem nonchalant, but Zuko caught the waver in it. When her blue eyes flitted away from his, he knew. 

She was afraid of a fight, too. Despite moving on from the regrets of his past, they’d been handed a lesson in forgiveness, and it was becoming more and more apparent that _his_ forgiveness was the one to be earned.

It was impossible for him to know if the spirits chose the Catacombs to haunt her, or perhaps they’d called to the surface the many dark words she spat at him around the Western Air Temple and the Black Cliffs.

Zuko wanted to tell her he didn’t blame her for the comments. The phrase clung to the tip of his tongue. He didn’t dwell on what she said, or how it had wounded him back then.

Then, why were the words echoing in his ears?

_ ‘You can’t possibly think that any of us would trust you.’ _

_ ‘Oh, everyone trusts you now? I was the first person to trust you!’    _

Zuko shook his head, repeating himself in a breathless whisper. “I don’t want to fight. I— I don’t want to take anything out on you.”

 _“What?_ ” She looked perplexed, frustrated. Denial flashed in her eyes, mixing with that infuriating stubbornness she possessed. “What does that even mean?”

“I- I’m… the things you said… I—”

“What? What did I say, Zuko?”

“At the air temple, and… when we were camping— all the- _ugh_.”

What the hell did he say to her? He’d fought so hard to win her trust, and through the years since, he’d cherished her trust like it was worth more than gold. But now… Zuko wasn’t sure _he_ trusted _her_ , not with the truth, not with this hurt he felt he didn’t have a _right_ to.

Guilt welled up in his throat. He was the one who cost the Earth Kingdom their last stronghold. He was the one who betrayed her. He was the one who fucked everything up. He deserved every harsh word… _didn’t he?_  

“I can’t… I can’t talk about it, Katara. I don’t want to talk about it.”

She crossed her arms. “Oh, excuse me. I forgot silence was the key to the spirits’ lessons.”

“And shouting at each other is?”

“Then  _what?!_ ”

Zuko sensed her eyes on him, and when he finally glanced up from the floor, the deep blue danced like blazing fire. Katara lurched towards him at the same time his fingers caught her chin. His mouth collided with hers in a rush of breath, hungry.

There was no tentativeness in his touch, no hesitation lingering in the physical manifestation of how he felt towards her. He loved her. Even when he hated her, he loved her. And, if his throat was going to close up around emotional vulnerability, maybe he could convey _something_ with his tongue in her mouth. 

If he couldn’t… at least, the aggression flooding his veins would find a release.

His lips moved boldly, possessively, and his hands twisted in her hair, demanding that Katara’s head tilt back and her mouth mold with his. Every kiss pushed her further up the bed, until she was flat on her back in the center and he was hovering over her.

She was warm, her lips slick with greed and so pliant. Her breath smelled sweet. Her tongue carried the lingering taste of salt and lemon from the oysters at the feast. Moans echoed in her chest, vibrating against his.

“Please…” Katara broke the embrace, whispering. Her fingers scraped through his hair, sending a chill across overheated skin. “Zuko, tell me— tell me you love me.” 

_ ‘You could reconquer Ba Sing Se.’ _

_ ‘You could bring my mother back!’ _

He hissed, his breath shaking. “I do.”

Zuko nipped her bottom lip. His hands set to work, loosening the sash that held her dress to her skin, ripping the fabric open to show off the soft brown skin of her stomach and her covered breasts. His teeth grazed up her abdomen, scraping over her ribs and the white bindings he couldn’t be bothered with. 

He shoved his thumbs under the fabric’s edge, then shoved the wrappings up. Zuko stared for a moment, his mouth watering at the full mounds and the perfect dusty buds that pebbled under a harsh rush of his breath. Then, his lips crashed into her chest, his tongue licking up her sternum, his teeth tugging at her right nipple, then her left.

Katara whimpered his name at the strenuous balance between pleasure and pain, her hips bucking up, grinding eagerly into his.

Zuko growled when she pulled his hair, forcing his mouth away and his eyes to hers.  

“Whatever you need,” she panted, lids half closed. Katara released his long locks, and her thumbs grazed down his cheekbones, brushing across his lips. “Do whatever you need.”

He seized her wrists, “Tell me if it’s too much,” and pinned her hands above her head. “Keep your hands there.”

His fingers traveled down her arms to her collarbones, over her breasts, to the top of her leggings.

Zuko practically tore the woolen fabric from her hips down to her knees, and her undergarments, too. Satisfied with the skin he’d exposed, he held her legs together and up against her chest with one hand, while the other grappled with his belt and pants, ripping them open and freeing his cock.

He was already painfully hard for her, and Katara swallowed like she was hungry, but that was all the pretense Zuko allowed. From one brush through her swollen lips, he knew she could take him. Her thighs were wet, from her own arousal and their tryst that morning.

Zuko brought his fingers to his tongue, licking them clean and sighing at the taste of him and her mixed. His eyes narrowed, _“Fuck,_ you’re delicious.”

Katara didn’t have a chance to moan. He grabbed at her hips the second his fingers were washed clean, and yanked her closer. His hands slid from her hips, down her thighs, to her calves, which he pressed a kiss to before settling her legs over one shoulder. 

The tip of his cock teased her clit, _tortured_ her sex, with every little rock she made in the search for friction.

“Beg me,” he said, cupping her ass.

Katara fisted the blankets. “Please…”

He lifted her an inch, pressing into her halfway, and giving cruel, shallow thrusts. “Fucking beg me, Kat.”

“Zuko.” Her eyes were wild, her mouth open with ragged breaths. “God… _please!”_

He memorized that pained, desperate look on her face.

Then he sank into her, until his hips were flush with the backs of her legs. He watched her throat constrict with every inch he gave, and her grasp on the sheets tightened with the vice-like grip he had on her waist.

Zuko whined at the slick heat engulfing his cock, and he decided to get lost in it— not in the pools of her eyes or the sounds of her cries, but the carnal, beautiful, overwhelming way her body was pleading for him to move and how fucking good it felt when he did.

Violent. Aggressive. He pulled out and slammed in, raising a touch of red where his hips hit hers.

He’d never taken her so hard— not when he’d had his first taste, and he could’ve fucked her all day long and never been happy; not when Katara demanded he pin her against the wall and finish before the Council joined them in the throne room.

This was new. This was rough and angry and Zuko needed it. _They_ needed it.

He focused on her mouth, on the way she bit her bottom lip and her eyes rolled back with strangled moans. He watched her breasts bounce with every thrust, and died at how tight she was, how splendidly she took his cock.

Katara eventually let go of the sheets, and her hands held his waist, demanding a faster pace, a deeper pace. She was close— Zuko knew from her tightening breaths and the stain of pink across her breasts and cheeks.

She was close and he was racing towards the pure bliss, panting, growling, until—

_“Fuck!”_

He came just as her back arched above the bed, and held her hips tight against him, finishing with erratic thrusts until Katara slumped into the mattress, a sigh on her lips.

Katara breathed deeply, blinking sweat from her eyes. _“Spirits_ … that was…”

_ ‘You and I both know you’ve struggled to do the right thing.’  _

Zuko pulled out of her, his heart wrenching at her keening gasp. “Not what I thought it would be.”

He shifted to the edge of the bed, standing with his hands knotted in his hair. Katara looked upset, when he worked up the courage to meet her hallowed gaze. He’d never just _taken_ what he wanted from her and left… that wounded her.

Or maybe— maybe she’d figured out how angry he was, and that was the reason for the her haunted stare.

“You know I love you,” he murmured, turning away.

“I love you, too.”

Zuko heard her the tremor in her breath, as if she hoped the three words would be enough to make him stay, to make him drop his robe to the floor and crawl between her legs again. His fingers fisted in the lush, red fabric, then he pulled the robe around his shoulders and headed for the hut’s flap.

“I just need some time.”

* * *

 

The wild grass went up in flames, crackling away until every blade was nothing but a blackened husk. Smoke billowed around him, stark against the blinding blue sky. It was high noon, and the fire came easily to him, leaping off his fingertips and toes, devouring oxygen like a relentless current.

But, Zuko was panting.

His uncle’s voice kept reverberating in his head — _a true master never finds himself so breathless!_ — and he’d look down at his damp, heaving chest, then, curse himself for acting like he was sixteen, again.

The self-inflicted insults only lead to brighter tongues of fire, until he’d landed on his knees in the center of a burnt out plain, growling at the warm ashes.

Moments like the present made Zuko hate his element. He _knew_ Katara would understand. She’d had her own moments of violent bending when the spirits required obedience, but water was cool and healing, while fire licked at everything in its path.

Anger was just his nature. An ember, a wildfire, a flash of lightning— it didn’t matter; they were all destructive, if given the chance. Aggression was _natural._

Zuko’s fingers fisted over his chest, and he forced himself to his knees, gritting his teeth when he faced the hut. He suddenly didn’t care what his wife thought of him, if she hated the heat that raced through his veins and exploded into red and yellow or if she still needed him, _loved him._

The brief memory of lightning made his heart hammer at a rampant pace and all he wanted was her hands on his skin… they were blessed with forgiveness, weren’t they? She’d forgive him, wouldn’t she?

He crossed the plain and pushed inside, his robe clinging to him when the stove-warmed air made sweat prick on his limbs.

The sight of Katara chilled him, however, in the way that her healing water did. _Soothing. Calming._ _Life-giving_. She was studying a scroll in the bed, chocolate curls framing her flushed cheeks. Her long, toned legs were hidden by the blanket, the edge of which she clutched the her chest, covering her breasts.

As Zuko pressed closer in the dim space, he made out the broken seal on the scroll’s seam, the delicate golden insignias painted on the ends, and his own neat, black script that’d bled through the page.

The letter that named her Ambassador of the South, he realized, his stomach clenching with guilt and pain. He ran off to pout like a child and Katara picked up the one thing that tied her to him outside their marriage.

Was she wishing it didn’t?

Zuko couldn’t find an answer in her eyes when he knelt on the bed and she glanced up. He didn’t see any confirmation or denial when he pushed his robe away, crawled up the sheets, and tugged the scroll from her slender fingers.

When he kissed her, however; when the kiss built and his cock sank into her with a gentle sigh and Katara murmured that she missed him against his lips— peace settled the fire in him the first time since the feast.

He’d always have her forgiveness, and if he was to be half the man she deserved, he’d give her his forgiveness, too.

* * *

 

They fell asleep for a long time. He’d made up tenfold for every minute apart, spending hours doting on Katara’s skin, breasts, and lips with tender kisses.

Zuko woke first, sometime in the late afternoon, judging by the golden sunlight on the western side of the hut. The rest had done some good. It was much needed, after the previous night of endless sex and the marathon throughout the day. His body felt refreshed.

His soul, however, was utterly beat down. Weariness clung to his thoughts, swirling with a sour pinch of guilt. They never talked, not beyond murmured affections and commands for _more, there, harder, don’t stop._

He sat up, skimming warm fingers down Katara’s spine. She was on her side, her back to him. Zuko would’ve been content to watch her ribs expand evenly for the rest of the night, but he knew better than to let the morning’s fury go untouched.

Uncle always said there was nothing a cup of calming tea couldn’t fix.

Zuko slipped out from under the covers, careful not to disturb her, and padded to the stove to make them a pot.

The water came to a boil quickly. He pulled the kettle from the burner just before it whistled, and snagged two cups from the table. He poured the water over the tea bags, put the cups on their matching saucers, and watched them steep while he searched for the best form of an apology.

Katara startled him from his thoughts. “That better not be the aphrodisiac blend.”

 _“Uh_ , no…” Zuko looked over his shoulder at her, seeing humor on the surface. It hid the rushing current beneath. She was always too gracious, too forgiving. She’d ignore his own sins if it meant happiness remained in their bed. 

Sighing, he gathered the steaming cups and sat cross-legged on his side of the mattress. He held Katara’s tea out when she sat up.

“Chamomile.”

“Oh, thank you.” 

She sniffed at it, then a thick silence followed, broken up by the sound of her slurping and him, fidgeting. Calming tea might soothe anxious nerves, but Zuko didn’t know how to explain the root of his anxiety.

_ ‘I thought you changed!’  _

Her words still cracked in his ears, as harsh as lightning. Only now, the white-blue light was tinged with his betrayal, with the poor way he’d handled the lingering ache and the violent way he’d taken her that morning.

The only place to start… “Katara, I’m sorry.”

“You’re already forgiven, love.”

 “Yes… but, I need to voice it.” Zuko licked his lips. “I’m sorry, Kat, for being cold after the feast, for… not opening up when you first asked.”

 “You _have_ struggled with that in the past.”

Zuko knew she meant it to be understanding, an admission of her forgiveness, her appreciation that he recognized it, apologized for it, and was working to amend it. His jaw clenched in a dark grimace, a few rapid blinks fighting the sting of tears.

The phrase was too familiar.

“Love,” her greeting was quiet, her inflection, careful. One hand dropped from her cup of tea, clutching his forearm. “I’ll listen.”

“I feel like I shouldn’t be upset…” He looked away from her to the amber liquid in his cup, wishing his uncle were nearby to offer words of wisdom or a simple nod that Zuko was moving in the right direction. “I did a terrible thing to you, when we were together in Ba Sing Se. I abused your trust, I broke it— you forgave me, but—”

He didn’t want to sound angry. He didn’t want to come off as crass. He’d spent too much time fighting fire with fire to perpetuate that cycle in his marriage. 

But, he’d done just that, hadn’t he? 

He’d closed himself off that morning to prevent himself from taking his frustration out on her with words, but how he touched her was laced with flame, anyway.

Zuko covered his mouth, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. He’d swallow this again, the same as he’d done when she first snarled at him. He’d bury it and get over it and let his apology stand alone.

“Nevermind,” he murmured. No more fire fighting fire. “Time heals everything.” 

He forced himself to smile at her, but Katara was frowning.

“No… Zuko, it doesn’t.”

Her fingertips dug into his arm for a moment. Then, she set her teacup aside and took his away, too. As soon as the delicate china was out of the way, Katara grabbed him by the biceps and pulled him down into her chest.

They fell back into a mess of pillows, with her hands brushing through his hair and down his back.

Zuko steadied his thoughts to the sound of her heartbeat.

“Words hurt,” he whispered. “I didn’t open up this morning, because… your words kept ringing in my head like- like you said them yesterday… I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Katara swallowed, and her voice wavered. “The spirits are assholes.”

He chuckled in agreement, hoping the sound would soothe her. “They are, aren’t they?”

“I’m an asshole, too.” 

“You’re not.” Zuko lifted his head and kissed up her chest to her neck, before bumping her nose with his own. “You were young, Kat. I’d almost irreparably damaged your trust and—”

“I was ridiculous to think one conversation would change you!” She snapped, and though she sounded harsh, Zuko knew it was to cover threatening tears. “I was a foolish, naive, little girl with hopes too big for her own good and you were the Fire Nation’s crown prince.”

“I was nobody. I was damaged goods… I thought turning back to the life I knew would mend that.”  

“Don’t call yourself damaged goods, Fire Lord. You were young,” Katara used his protest against him, tapping up his spine. “You’re allowed to make mistakes.”

“I was wrong. I was terribly wrong and I wish I’d seen the change that one conversation _did_ make… without destroying every relationship I had.”

Zuko lowered his lips to her shoulder, his eyes glazing over.

He was so physically close to her. Coconut and peaches lingered on her brown skin. Her legs framed his hips and her arms wrapped him in gentle warmth, while her fingers made absent patterns on his back. An onlooker wouldn’t be able to tell their limbs apart, if not for the startling difference between chocolate and ivory. 

His mind, however, was ages away, cast back to the Crystal Catacombs and the Black Cliffs.

“What kills me, about everything you said: you were right.”

“No! I wasn’t.” Katara curled her fingers in the raven strands at the base of his neck, angling his face up and his eyes to hers. “You were trying, Zuko. You’d changed and you were trying to prove it to me… _I’m_ sorry.”

“I forgive you.”

The apology warmed his heart more than he thought it would. He’d spent half the day trying to convince himself that he didn’t need it, that he’d give it up if he could just be happy and in love with his wife. But, her admission brought the healing full circle, healing between two nations, two lives, two _souls._

Zuko couldn’t have felt more wholly-mended if the spirits had stitched him back together themselves.

He pressed his lips to hers, eyes closed and chest bursting. He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of her. Her hands knew him so well. She’d memorized the grooves that made him groan, the planes of skin that trembled under her fingertips. Her body was but a part of his own, moving with him, surrounding him—

It was her soul though, her heart, that made him doubt he’d ever find satisfaction. Not her touch or her warmth or the way she cried out when he sank between her thighs, it was the all-encompassing way she loved his faults, the unconditional way she forgave them.

* * *

 

As the moon rose on their final day, Zuko and Katara took their seats in the banquet hall. While Katara had always been comfortable in the space, he was surprised to find himself accustomed to the array of blue eyes and the genuine well-wishes that came with every greeting.  

He could’ve stayed here, forsaken his roots as a Fire Nation citizen, his role as the Fire Lord. 

At certain moments, when he caught Katara’s eyes and her bright smile, he told himself to do it. If not for his own happiness, than hers. That had always been his fear, that he wouldn’t be able to please her, that she wouldn’t be satisfied in her life as the Fire Lady.

However, before his face could fall to something melancholy, she slipped her hand into his lap. “I hear my father is giving the blessing tonight.”

“There’s another blessing?” Zuko stared at her curiously. 

“Yes.” she squeezed his leg, her expression turning soft, “the spirits found me worthy of you.”

His spoonful of soup landed back in the bowl, and Zuko grasped her chin, kissing her firmly and without a single care. She didn’t know what she’d done. She hadn’t a clue that, by her own confession, she’d assuaged every fear he harbored, every concern he hid. 

If she was worthy of him, then the spirits had deemed him worthy of her, too. 

She was his heart, his life, his soul— _everything_ he held dear and so much more, because he’d give all that up if it meant he’d have her.

And, the spirits believed him, they trusted him with this marriage.

So, he kissed her. He kissed her until a cheer rippled around the hall and a grunt from Hakoda made them pull apart.

Zuko’s cheeks were pink, as pink as her lips, which he ran his thumb across before letting her chin go.

When the couple finally gave their attention over the chieftain, Hakoda was smiling amusedly. Then, the man turned to the crowd.

“The first marriage was between the moon and the sea,” he greeted them. His arm raised to address a tapestry at the back of the hall, then moved to the next, his gesture circling the room, “For seven days and seven nights, the spirits communed in their love, growing, learning, and bonding.”

He followed the tapestries across the spirit’s history, depicted by two pearlescent beings sewn into rich blue fabric, locked in a dance around one another, eternally.

“From their union,” Hakoda halted on a final weaving of the coy fish, whose backs bore the outline of the Northern and Southern lands, “life was born. For this, we honor them.”  

Kanna rose with the familiar pot of blue clay. Zuko and Katara joined her, at Hakoda’s signal, and knelt before the Tribe’s gathered men and women. They held hands, like the many other times they’d been presented to the elders and the spirits. 

“For seven days and seven nights—” Hakoda took the paint from his mother. His jaw was clenched when he approached the pair, but his eyes watered with a tenderness that was rarely seen— “the husband and his wife grow, learn, and bond.”

He dipped his fingers into the pot, pressing them first to Katara’s forehead. She closed her eyes, and Zuko watched the chieftain form an intertwined sun and moon. The celestial beings hugged above her brow, a symbol of their nations, their lives, becoming one.

“Fire is the element of power,” the chieftain said. “It is strength, it is unwavering, it is determination.”

He moved in front of Zuko, who closed his eyes and angled his face up as the man continued.

“Water…” Hakoda drew the curve of the crescent moon. “Water is the element of change. It is adaptability. It is versatility. It ebbs and flows, as predictable as the tides.”

The last of the sun’s stylized lines were worked across his skin, then Hakoda stepped back, allowing the newlyweds to stand and face each other.

Katara reached up to cup Zuko’s cheek, and he leaned into her palm, holding her hand there. Her eyes bore into his, and he knew he’d never again be lost.  

“The spirits have blessed your marriage, Lord Zuko, Lady Katara. They have deemed you worthy of one another, a complementary fit— fire and water, both so different, both so _live-giving_.” Emotion leaked into Hakoda’s voice. “My daughter, my son: husband and wife.”

The silent crowd burst into a round cheers, drowning any sensible thought, any shared sentiments.

He couldn’t hear her, but he could see her. Her full lips curved up, the shy smile that he adored making an appearance.

 _“I love you,”_ Katara mouthed, her eyes alight.

Zuko pulled her close, and murmured the same words beneath the noisy din. _“I love you, too.”_


End file.
